No Umbrella (Poetry)

In the wreck of all my days
I am sifting through the debris
I am picking up the remnants
and I hold them to the light

thus I see how many ways
I might have changed the outcome
had I been a little wiser
or some lucky star shone bright

Instead the ruined years
crumble grey into each other
and their dust is like a curtain
drawn against the glare of pain

But it’s far too late for tears
life’s a cruel curve for learning
no umbrella stops the weather
and the morning threatens rain