Cross roads
By Grannyrosie
CROSS ROADS Standing at crossroads, a place called life, Seeking direction, uncertain where to go. Looking for a sign, an indication of the way, Time restraints imposed, the journey must get underway. Busily collecting, stray threads from the past, Stringing patterns deep within the mind. Overlapping pieces of the puzzle to make it fit, Pondering what the end result will find. The roads are rough, bumpy at best, Time now to seek alternative route. Maps provide not a single fragile glimmer, There are no pointing finger sides about. Is there some other direction, As yet unknown, lost, not found? One that leads direct to heaven, Another to deep caverns underground? Move on to higher pasture? , Settle into a gully down below? Set sights for somewhere way beyond the stars? Perhaps charter a passing cloud and gently coast along? Hitch my wagon to a comet, and pray it lands on Mars? Whatever, of choices, there is no lack. More likely, I would meet myself, on the highway back. Such interesting contemplation, yet, I have to say, Best sit back, relax, wave the world along it's way Written December 17th, 2001 © on Dec 16 2001 04:45 PM PST, Patricia Rosenberg 0 • 10
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"CROSS ROADS..."