In The Wee Small Hours

In The Wee Small Hours

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When sleep hides, the mind turns to time past.

Hindsight is a view lit by false light.

What if?

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What if I had taken another route?

If I had spoken to the man in the opposite corner?

I had not been driven to please, placate, control.

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If I had laughed with – loved – another?

What if I had not given away money or time, nor spent it wisely? Or unwisely.

What if I had danced, not painted?

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What if I had loved the city, not the sea?

What then?

I’d not be me.

In The Wee Small Hours

Title taken from an album by Frank Sinatra.
Words triggered by the writer Richard Pisciotta.

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About largelyhelen

Designer, photographer, writer.
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