prisoners of time

a lifetime is spent in preparation,
putting on hold things you wish to do,
but once your life is done and dusted,
will you pine for the little things
that were lost in life's mire by you.

if i were to pause my preparation
to stop and smell the roses by the lanes,
or to write a book of my poetry,
life's bus will pass by me
leaving me high and hungry
with a sweet rose that has dried away.