Slowly

Slowly you begin to understand
it’s not what seemed to matter at the time:
it’s what you barely noticed, or ignored.

And then your whole life changes, and you see
how much was wasted, how much lost, yet how
tenderness was always in the grain.

You know you won’t hold on to what you know.
You know that’s not important, in some way
which doesn’t add up like a bank account

or shape itself into a long career.
But it’s all in that one moment when you know
what’s always there, whether or not in vain.

Tom Vaughan

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Tom Vaughan  would be pleased to hear them.