Catching Up With Myself Poem by Alan Bruce Thompson

I was very busy all the time, and the years slipped past,
Then I got very sick and thought that day would be my last.

Those endless items filling up the time,
Were not for me, not even an idea of mine.

I tried to make a list of all those deeds done then,
And asked myself for what? For whom? And when?

I found it was easier to let the anger slip away,
Forget the lost time, assume it had been only one day.

To give away what had already gone,
To realize that I was not alone not forlorn.

I was catching up with myself, realizing we are all the same,
Lost item is not lost, it’s all in someone else’s name.