Wandering through the woods I am,
striding lonely, like a lonesome man.
Trees and clearings I do pass without a glance,
their beauty can’t reach me, they have no chance.
Suddenly my feet they stop in their move,
there is an old barn with a shattered roof.
A shelter to sleep for the night,
a place of comfort, a place to hide.
Through the broken planks shines a warming light,
giving the surrounding an orange color in the pitch-black night.
Lonely I sleep in the hay,
my dreams they bring me back to where my people lay.
Once upon a time I had the choice of two roads to walk,
one would have led to death and the other ... to walk and walk.
I took the right one – the walking way,
and this is where I am now ... but sometimes my mind is just going astray.
What would have been, if I had chosen the other one?
Would there be a moon, a shining sun?
Would I have met the one I loved and miss so much...
Would I have been able to feel his tender touch?
An answer that is still in my head,
and I turn and turn each night in my lonesome bed.
Two roads, I can go again...
Will you be there – or will I still be the lonesome man?
The end of the way – the answer will bring,
so I’ll pack my things, stride and sing.
Wandering through the woods I am,
striding lonely, like a lonesome man.
The first poem written since a while though. I hope you like it!
2 comments:
Darling....I am deeply moved.
A touch of Robert Frost with your soul in it.
This is utterly wonderful!
I'll never be able to write something like this.
You are a good writer and your poetry is wonderful! Don't hide behind a bushel!
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