I reckon I shall want to sit
sort of dreaming in the sun,
and recall the roads I've travelled
and the many things I've done.

I hope there'll be no picture
that I'll hate to look upon
  when the time to paint it better,
or to wipe it out, is gone.

I hope there'll be no vision
of a hasty word I've said
that has left a trail of sorrow,
like a whip welt sore and red.

And I hope my old age dreaming
will bring back no bitter scene
of a time when I was selfish,
or a time when I was mean.

When I'm getting old and feeble,
and I'm far along life's way
I don't want to sit regretting
any bygone yesterday.

I'm painting the picture now
that I will someday want to see,
and I'm filling in a canvas
that will soon come back to me.

Though nothing great is on it,
and though everything seems fine,
I'll want to view it when I'm old
and know every piece is mine.

So I do not dare to leave it
while the paint is warm and wet,
with a single thing upon it
that I later will regret.

-- author unknown

Contributor: Thank you, Ingrid - Rakaia, South Canterbury
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