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The Journey
November 13, 2011
With baited breath,
You wait for me.
Over sandy dunes and grassy
Hills will I travel,
Into darkness.
On a rug,
I will flee.
Beginning at the end,
And starting in the middle,
With thee,
No me,
I will travel.
Between branches,
I will find the truth,
Under stones the meaning.
Of a journey so
Ridiculous,
It could be a poem.
Wait for me no longer,
Your breath will be saved.
Onward or backward,
I will travel.
© Alice B., Sarasota, FL
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