Running Fro And To

The road angles to a faraway point

that widens as I draw near, then, thinning

again, it brings me to a beginning

I’ve been trying to both avoid and anoint.

I am tired of the road less traveled by

and the romance it allegedly inspires,

satisfied instead by things that satisfy

be they hunger or thirst or desires.

Unimportant things fall to the shoulder

and I am pleased to create my own psalm

or dream a dream as foretelling as a palm

instead of always waiting till I’m older,

for I’ve discovered that a dream delayed

Is as unforgiving as a wrong note played.

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