Things I Miss

When I heard news of the death of Stuart Cable, the drummer from the band Stereophonics, I
dismissed it as yet another tragedy and a classic case of rock and roll overload.  Something drew me to investigate the band, and I went to the song "Maybe Tomorrow".   The yearning and sadness of the song aroused feelings in me.  I would have to call these feelings melancholy because I watched the video of the song and I saw young men doing what they loved to do: write and play songs, preparing for a rock concert.  It was something I had hoped to do as a young man but never achieved.  I had too many character flaws; I wasn't enough of a team player to work with a band.  I had to be the boss.  Then this poem emerged.  

The things I miss the most

are things I never had,

or things I had but was too dense

to know they were there.

I miss loving when I was young.

I miss believing my future would be beautiful.

I miss having people weep

at a work of art I made,

while I weep at a work of art

someone else has made.

I miss the song I didn't learn how to write.

I miss the book I didn't publish

because I was so high I couldn't find the page.

I miss readers to love me, and I miss writers

to love.

I miss my life, the one I'm not living.

I miss the world, the one that's dying.

I miss the bears.  I miss the elephants.

I miss trees of mahogany.
The reefs at Bimini are empty of fish.  

I miss people who know themselves.

If there were more,  they might have helped me.

I miss knowing myself.  If I had, sooner, I could have enjoyed being young.

I missed half my life while I was living it.  I don't want to miss the rest of it.

It is possible, after all, that my future is beautiful.

It is possible.