Poem written while waiting for a train at a provincial railway station

If I could have my time over,
I would do it all differently
and not treat each precious moment
with such disregard and flippancy.

I would use my time effectively,
I would think ahead and plan.
I would reserve my stores of energy,
and take charge when I can.

But it’s too late in the journey
for regret, too late to repent –
because there’s not a socket in sight,
and my battery’s on one per ce

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Brian Bilston