Books I have bought but never read
Reflecting on this unfinished life I have led

Dreaming of traveling to distant, wonderful lands
Wishing for a bright orange sunset on white silver sands

Missing the Farewell Tour to hear Paul Simon sing
Turning a deaf ear to the melody of the lark on a wing

Ignoring her when she said ‘We really need to talk’
Never believing in God but wishing my bedridden mother would walk

In a world full of woe, thinking only of my own sorrow
Always sacrificing today for the sake of that elusive tomorrow

Like these works of great literature sitting on my shelf
I’ve lived a life not for others, only for my own indulgent self

Unable to decipher the last garbled words my father said
Will these unread books be the only regret of my deathbed?

**Tsundoku is Japanese for the act of buying books but leaving them unread