Sunday, June 27, 2010

The Mysterious Race

The Days move too swiftly
To leap off and stand beside
The Road chest heaving
Watching them go
And whatever I might
Have known about them
Slides off in the wind

But when I count them
Just to hear a voice
They seem hollow
And tenuous.  I am
Quite sure I made
Them all up though I can't
Remember doing it

Or the trouble it must
Have taken -- to wake
Up every morning and make
The twists, turns
And uncertainties;
Then lay them out on each
Road I must have traveled.

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