Thurman P. Woodfork
BORN: APRIL 4, 1935 – NO REGRETS
Awarded: October 26, 2004There’s always regret for things not done,
A little heartache for songs left unsung.
Not that my voice is all that great,
It’s just that it seems a part of my fate
That I would never climb all those hills
I occasionally glimpse beckoning me still…
A bit of yearning for what might have been
Had I not tarried so long in the glens.
Yet it was worth those moments of bliss,
The sweet desire, that lingering kiss
That held me enthralled in love’s embrace,
A willing captive, away from the chase.
But, of course, I could not forever stay,
And after awhile, I’d go on my way,
Still in search of that magical thing…
Adventure, or Fame, or Eternal Spring.
So I chased my gossamer youth along
With blood pulsing, vibrant and strong,
And never a thought that alas, one day
The pulse would slow and my hair turn gray
Before I accomplished all I had in mind,
And I’d have to leave the chase behind.
But glimmering rainbows will always be there
With crystal songs faintly heard on the air,
Calling to me softly when I start to fret,
Gentle reminders that I have little to regret.
©Copyright September 1, 2004 by Thurman P. Woodfork