Black Chrysanthemums

I am a but a broken man
Who trudges through
these solemn streets
Counting the hours off
as surely as these houses
Slip behind me.
When I began this thing
I didn't have this burden
But the 'what ifs' turned
To 'now whats,'
then 'what was'.

I am but a walking man -
Carrying black chrysanthemums
Resting in my arms
Like the baby I once was
Counting the hours off
From the 'what ifs'
Turned to 'now whats'...
No, what was.