History

Much good it does me now to realize
The indiscretions of my past were meant
To serve as warnings, so I'd recognize
When times were different, how they should be spent.
It would have been so nice, then, to have known
I ought to pay attention, but instead
I wafted by them calmly, and have blown
My chance to learn the life I should have led.
If memory should help me, where is it?
It does not tell me what I want to know.
It can give me the pieces I should fit
Together, but not tell me where they go.
So I may ponder every last mistake
But never learn the lesson I should take.