[talentedbutslow]

Painting The Picture

• • • • When my hair is thin and silvered,
        and my time of toil is through;
        when I've many years behind me,
        and ahead of me a few;
        I shall want to sit, I reckon,
        sort of dreaming in the sun;
        and recall the roads I've traveled
        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 am painting now the picture
        that I'll want someday to see;
        I am filling in a canvas
        that will soon come back to me.
        
        Though nothing great is on it,
        and though nothing there is fine,
        I shall want to look it over
        when I'm old, and call it 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.