In the Land of Mediocrity,
Surrounded by the picket fence of excuses;
I built my house.
The weeds of procrastination
And the brambles of slough take over the yard
That will never be green again.
Near the house are huge oak trees
That represents the giants in my life
That I failed to confront.
Inside the house is the couch of comfort
Where I invested my time foolishly;
An album of achievement is nearby,
But the pages are empty.
The air is filled with boredom;
My eyes are filled with tears of regret.
A waste basket near the couch of comfort
Is full of dreams;
Never pursued; never to be.
The door to the house is that of opportunity;
The door I hesitated to walk through
For fear of the unknown.
Those fears still exist today;
But only as then, in my mind.
Through the window of vision
That I failed to keep clean and clear,
I can see what’s left of the bridge of hope,
Now fallen down into the river of regret which flows by daily;
Reminding me of all that I could have achieved;
Of all the dreams I could have lived.
I, instead, have created my own misery;
Somewhere in the Land of Mediocrity.
Copyright © 2010 LeRoy Dean All Rights Reserved