Regrets

By Chris Commodore © 2024

Oh, wasted time on juice inebriating;
Draining health and vital organs smashing,
Erasing moments soon to dry the sunshine,
Thus, dashing precious hours down the line.

Vain enjoyment down life’s littered lane,
Derisive jeering for those who abstain;
Live for today, tomorrow and we die,
Like hapless souls who in their grottos lie.

From cool and gaiety must a man abstain?
This fleeting life with naught but woes and pain.
For those so lucky twenty thousand days,
Scant recompense strict asceticism pays.

Tradition says be sober all one’s days,
And watch and pray in all one’s steps and ways.
Those who comply will sleep in paradise,
And there watch angels as they dip and rise.