Trail Of Words
Words spoken, sometimes - sail one way in rhyme,
Once heard, there will be no, moving backward.
Sometimes in haste, other times amid precise timing.
When recorded, an spoke must move, one direction.
Trailing word presence, being this live-long sentence,
When one declares their individualist independence.
There is no retreat, only commitments moving forward,
One casts away, leaving the umbilical compliant chord.
Like moving out, to going to college the future is forward,
To turn back, total failure; the rest of your live - obscurity.
Sink or swim, you navigate adrift your own unique passage
That twists and turns on you bearing, your own volition.
Like riding a bike, driving an automobile, to get your license,
You get behind the wheel, to rotate counter clockwise,
Upon your driver’s side; clockwise being time’s passenger.
Around changing seasons, we weather 12 months into years.
Work routines become morning repetitive, beside evening doldrums.
We start mundane, end up rushing home, adrift Friday release endings.
Wherein half a century one takes the trail of years that add upward
That decades soon add up to assert retirement curtain - Senior Dream.
There are bridges, one must burn; while others, will be forever regretted.
Relations that will never again be close knit family and friend - time bonded.
Chain links - being broken; will never again mend, what was, to what will be.
Passage of time frames being lived, trying to find solace, sailing on a journey.
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Love ya!
Jane