We Never Know

We never know when life will end And so each day we just pretend That we have all the time to spend On all that we envision. The trips someone would recommend, The get-togethers with a friend, The shows and games we should attend - We plan them with precision. Yet circumstances often bend And goals or travels we’d intend To take, we somehow comprehend Will bow to indecision. Our years on earth, though, won’t extend. There is no magic dividend And, like this poem that I have penned, There’ll be no great revision.