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Poem

When days were young and carefree,
he was young, took chances, too...
anything at all girls wanted,
that’s the thing that he would do.

Mattered not what consequence
resulted from the act,
there was not a chance in hell
that he could take it back.

Many came, the chances took,
sadder, his heart would break,
“Oh, that’s the way of life!” they'd say.
“Don’t pout, for goodness sake!”

Despite his cost, their needs fulfilled,
what all he gave they’d all embrace.
Footloose was life and fancy free,
but love he never could replace.

Someone, once, had said to him,
“Venture naught, and naught you'll gain!”
But, every chance he took for love
wrought him naught but deeper pain.

Each chance he took, colder his heart
until the day would come,
that he’d look back in recompense
to rue his chance-took sum.

You see, his craving heart had starved
from childhood to a man,
that life had so deprived of love
before his life began...

can now recall each time it was
that he’d gave all he could,
that taught him in the end of it,
some chances are no good.

So, choose well your chances
and value who you are,
for who you hold and holds you back
says much of you, by far.

Please, judge him not, he’ll not judge you...
well he knows, your chances took;
for, love’s now took a chance on him,
and he's since ~ been off the hook.

    Rascal Jones
    ©1 Oct 2011

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