One Lost Chance

If winning seems a steep, high climb,

and sweat feels like a wasted dime,

just wait until regret's cold hand

reaches out to take its stand.

The price of dreams left on the floor,

of open windows closed once more,

is paid in nights you lie awake,

in wondering what roads to take.

Victory asks for time and pain,

for steps through doubt and days in rain.

But better wounds from battles fought

than scars from wars you never sought.

The price of courage might feel steep,

but silence is a cost you keep.

So rise, embrace each weary mile,

for one lost chance can haunt a while.