As I traveled the road I met a man.
The man was drunk and no better than me.
He sputtered, “This is how it all began,”
I nodded my head and I did agree,
Though what I agreed on I did not know,
He grinned, walked around me and then bowed,
He had a sunburned mouth and was quite old,
When he finally stopped he wiped his brow,
Said, “This road you’re on is full of fool’s gold.”
I tipped my hat, continued on my way
Searching for my nirvana I must find.
Not giving the drunk even a good day.

Nirvana was lost, always out of reach,
I retraced my steps, my conscience beached.

©August 10, 2019 / Jerry Pat Bolton