Too Late Poem by Edwina Reizer

Too late we listen,
too late we learn.
Too many years
when the fires did burn.
It all seemed cozy.
It all seemed warm.
We let time slip away
and then did form
a comfortable way to move along,
never asking, 'Is anythng wrong? '

Too late we listen,
too late we learn
to show compassion and show concern.
There were no signs to recognize.
There were no tears formed in the eyes.
We did not ask what we wanted to know.
We contented ourselves with when we go
we won't have to confront these things today.
They'll all be gone when we pass away.

Too late we listen,
too late we learn
and then we yearn
for another chance
to help discern
what was wrong?