Here’s to the what ifs
The ones that got away
The roads not taken
The regrets over yesterday.
The coulda woulda shouldas
The cliches that rationalise
Every piece of luck, good or bad
And the unaccounted irregularities.
Here’s to cold comforts
And the numbing familiarity
Of slow days, blending into blurry years
And wondering what could’ve been.
A toast, to the doubt that plagues
Every apparently well-reasoned decision
To choose the safe option, yet always
Seeking the deep end’s adrenaline rush.
For the 0.01% chance
Of you being the outlier
Will always make you second-guess everything.
That minuscule possibility, which
Defeats every pro/con list,
The irrational, that romanticises
Labours that would never materialise.
These questions must be for daydreams,
These worries are the folly of youth
For how could we know, we are so young!
All we can do is to just sit back, and
Enjoy this show.