It Might Have Been

In quiet moments, hearts reflect,

On paths not taken, lives unchecked.

For all sad words of tongue and pen,

The saddest are these: "It might have been."

Dreams once bright now softly fade,

Choices made, and prices paid.

In the shadows of what we see,

Lies a world of possibilities.

A lover lost, a chance not seized,

A whispered hope, a soul unpleased.

Regret and longing intertwined,

In the corridors of the mind.

A door unopened, a call not heard,

A silent wish, an unspoken word.

What could have blossomed, what could have grown,

In the gardens we had never known?

The echoes of the might-have-beens,

Reside where wistful sorrow spins.

A tapestry of hopes delayed,

In the twilight where our fears are laid.

Yet in these reflections, truth does gleam,

Life’s what it is, not what we dream.

For all sad words of tongue and pen,

The saddest are these: "It might have been."

But from these depths, we rise anew,

To seize the moment, see it through.

For every "might" that's left behind,

A future full of dreams we’ll find.

Reading John Greenleaf Whittier's poem titled "Maud Muller" sent my mind into overdrive. The phrase "For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these: 'It might have been.'" struck me with such force that I just started to write. I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you ever get a chance, give "Maud Muller" a read.