When I visualise the future, 
It’s no clearer than the past; 
But I doubt the coming era 
Will be better than the last. 

The future is diminishing 
Week by week, and tick by tock; 
I want to stop life finishing 
By winding back the clock. 

I want things how they were before; 
To grow young, like Benjamin Button. 
I’d like to be a lamb once more, 
Instead of so much mutton. 

If time is money, I want it back; 
I’ve spent too much, too fast. 
Get me out of the red and into the black, 
Let me reinvent my past. 

I want to mend; unbreak the broken, 
Fix the shattered dreams; 
Speak the secret words unspoken, 
Stitch life’s scruffy seams; 

Go back to the start, 
Patch up my heart, 
Put the horse before the cart; 

Undo bad deeds, 
unsow the seeds 
That grew to choking beds of weeds; 

Talk to friends 
Who met their ends 
Before we made our last amends. 

But time moves only clockwise; 
Even the power of verse 
Can’t overcome my slow demise, 
And put life in reverse. 

Should I go out all guns blazing? 
Or take a final bow? 
Enough of this navel gazing – 
I’ll end this poem now. 

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