"what happens when"

I am not looking to live a "what happens when" life

that time is too soon, 

And plagued with rife.

Often times, I praise the past

I look to before, the moment before last. 

I always told myself, I'd never become that man

Who sits on his rocker, and spits in his can. 

Shooting the shit, against the wind

Remembering the past,

As his dearest friend. 

What happens when

Now become then 

And all that I have right now,

 is gone with the wind

"when" has then happened

With no time for right now,

Because I've let it all go 

In the flash of "how".

Sent from my iPad