If I could only relive my life
Just to undo the mistakes and relinquish my strife
To remove the errors that I once had done
And maybe forget something, or even someone
If only I could walk that path once again
But this time not as a boy in the company of men
Now knowing what risks I should have taken
While remembering all my errors that I had mistaken
Never again would I look back with regret at my past
Then finally for my future I would be an enthusiast
I would be happy and joyful with every decision made
Then I would be surefooted, not nervous or scared or afraid.
If I could erase all of my mistakes
They would be redone and then known as my remakes
No one would have been hurt and I would have caused no pain or sorrow
As then I would know what was held in my yesterday and tomorrow
If only that I was given that one and only chance
Into my past I would finally know of true love and finance
Going back to the time when my past had begun
I would so happily be ready to relive and re-meet everyone
Then happy and joyful I would be walking down the street
My life and my past would be liken a grocery receipt
I would know what I had done and what I had said
Then I would know the total that was waiting up ahead.
If I could relive this life once again
Starting from my beginning and stretching to its end
With all the information that I am in possession of now
Then to all of my probabilities, I could walk away or accept with a bow
Only then would I know the mistakes I have taken
Along with all the errors I have made and opportunities I forsaken
Just to walk the road that I had walked once before
Knowing which paths or steps I should take, and which ones I should ignore
If only I knew which path I should either deny or accept
Either becoming stronger or weak with pain and regret
On a cold chair I sit and not in the tropics under the sun being basked
So I conclude “If” is not a question, or a prayer that ever should be asked.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem