While growing up, I always took special note of a poem my parents had hung on the bathroom wall of all places. In hindsight, that was probably the perfect place for some quiet reflection.
My mother once told me it was a poem written by James Metcalfe, but I could never verify it and have never seen it in print. Here is that poem:
When Will I Learn?
How many years are left to me, to build
my life anew?…How many opportunities
for better things to do?…
Each day I promise and I say….tomorrow I will start…
And every morning I arise with courage in my heart…
But as the hour strikes again…I linger and delay…
And then before I know it…have lost another day…
When will I learn that time is brief…And as the candles burn…
The minutes vanish from the earth…and they will not return?…
When will I ever overcome…the weaker self in me…
And strive to fashion of my soul…The kind it ought to be?
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