Posted by on Jun 16, 2011 in Poetry | 1 comment

The wagons are almost loaded
I point my heart to the west
The hands that pull on my clothing fall away
As we start to roll.
The road lengthens behind me,
The shadows of forty years
Dance behind me in the dark woods
Right beyond the ring
Of the campfire light

One Comment

  1. as usual, you think it is small and not full of the grand constructions of the mind and the tales of experience, but as usual, you are wrong. a few words and so much said, thank you

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