Poetry: Two roads

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!