I’ve been down that lonely road before.
Sometimes I ran—the devil ‘hind me—
couldn’t see past the fog, misery
till you enveloped me in your arms.
People keep changing, time plays a role.
Once can’t stay a child if they’re aging.
We can’t control the years . . . by raging
like a rag that’s used till discarded.
The gravel oozes with mud.
There are streaks red. Is it blood?
Don’t let me sink in the quicksand!

I’ve been down the solo road before.
Married, single, take life as it is
(if you’re married, your life is half his).
whether he’s a mad-man, one with charms.
People, daily, are coming, going,
but not everyone’s dream will come true .
Some have BIG hassles . . . others have few.
Finding peace within is what matters.
Sometimes my head’s full of crud.
There are streaks red. Is it blood?
Why don’t you reach out . . . take my hand?

I’ve been down the ugly road before
Having things my way, doing as I pleased
till I found the pathway . . . on bent knees.
Nothing sets off my inner alarm
since I, like others, have found Him.
We both are completely devoted
but it’s ME whom HE has promoted.
He is my Father; I’m HIS humble child.
He helps me from the crud, the mud.
There were streaks red . . . ‘twas HIS blood!
I’ll never sink in life's quicksand!