We Never Know

We never know when life will end

And so each day we just pretend

That we have all the time to spend

On all that we envision.

 

The trips someone would recommend,

The get-togethers with a friend,

The shows and games we should attend -

We plan them with precision.

 

Yet circumstances often bend

And goals or travels we’d intend

To take, we somehow comprehend

Will bow to indecision.

 

Our years on earth, though, won’t extend.

There is no magic dividend

And, like this poem that I have penned,

There’ll be no great revision.