by Janet Muirhead Hill
Sometimes when we cannot sleep
We lie there counting silly sheep
But usually we’re counting should’ves,
What-if-I-hads, and wish-I-would’ves.
Words we’ve spoken and those not said
Ruefully, we replay in our head.
Hindsight gives us such clear vision
That in our thoughts, we seek revision.
Yet life has no button to re-record
And deeds once done have their reward.
For better or worse when a thing is done
It can’t be rewritten for anyone.
The best we can do as we count regrets
Is to learn a lesson and pay our debts.