The Loneliest Road
• 12/02/21 at 11:51PM •The loneliest road,
the one you are on,
with words of sorrow,
could soon be a song.
Don't take my word,
look far beyond,
for Country Music,
will soon be sing along.
Retired for many years and now re-discovering some writings, from long ago, along with new endeavor to help save my soul.
The loneliest road,
the one you are on,
with words of sorrow,
could soon be a song.
Don't take my word,
look far beyond,
for Country Music,
will soon be sing along.
Blowing wind through wired fence,
harmonics of metal strings,
humming out a lonely sound.
Rattling of wooden slats,
blending into string noise.
Is it a melody I hear,
as wind bursts forth,
shaking branch and leaf?
My song is short.
Your hair is long,
as eyes of brown,
look back at me.
Were we friends,
from long ago,
or kindred souls,
who I love so?
The words I see.
The words I write,
spill from my head,
in the pre-dawn light.
Are these words of joy,
or another mood?
Will they be clear
or just misunderstood?
I'll try hard once more,
to write the words,
as I did, long before,
not to be as absurd.
My words lay unwritten,
lodged in my throat,
and by admission,
are words which can hurt.
Careless of me to let,
words loose, in the air,
which should be of love;
not fostering despair
The life of another
is in your care.
Do you understand?
Are you aware?
Yet, here you are,
trying hard to converse,
when you know your words,
won't be heard or understood.
You cannot argue or convince,
when logic is not present
and a life time of
love, trust and affection,
is broken by you.
You've lost the connection.
A dot,
a period,
a space in time.
An era,
a place in line.
A gap,
an opening,
a portal,
a gate to go,
an age,
a date,
an object to show.
A word,
a sentence,
a paragraph below,
a time,
a life, so low,
a love
as others
and those you know.
Can a dust jacket be yellow
and become a yellowjacket?
To be away from here,
this most humble abode,
a haunting journey;
life's horse he rode.
Lonely the man,
who chooses to run,
away from marriage,
to follow the Sun.
How fickle I am,
with these words I write.
I write of love
and of its might,
to move emotional mountains,
at the darkest of night,
yet, I flit with feelings
to family and friends,
as I'm having a struggle
when trying to pretend.
Bring forth from Heaven,
life's eternal light.
Change all the grayness
to something so bright
it will smite the darkness
into a Springful delight.