The precious are so easy to neglect: I let them down, my family and my friends. It’s futile if I offer my respect - Today is much too late to make amends. Nothing is left for me to do or say. The fact is: my priorities were wrong. So much affection simply poured away: I see that now; why did it take so long? My time, my love: I squandered them, instead Of using them. It can’t be altered now; most of those I should have loved are dead. The waste of it all: how could I allow The waves of my emotions to break and roar Upon a distant and irrelevant shore? David Whippman is a British poet, now retired after a career in healthcare. Over the years he’s had quite a few poems, articles and short stories published in various magazines.