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The Paths of Time
| Open Poetry #3 |
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The Paths of Time |
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John Yaws Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 860Texas 
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The Paths of Time Trails across the desert- Now faint and hard to see... But something there is calling And beckoning to me. A voice within is bidding- Take up this lonely track And see where it is leading You won't be coming back. You follow through the mountains Where days stretched into weeks Across the mighty rivers Through quicksand in the creeks. You find iron rims a'rusting Half buried in the sand- And know they are a monument To some forgotten man. And scattered in the sage brush Are bleached and drying bones Some gambler, here, played out his hand And fought and died alone. And there a small stone marker Inscribed to "Sarah Jane" Some daughter, or some mother At this spot to rest was lain. As you sit beside your campfire And gaze into the night- You may hear some woman crying Or a small child's sobs of fright. You may here the ghostly calling Of some sturdy pioneer Whose family came up missing Somewhere not far from here. I slowly take my hat off And stare back down the trail And pause awhile to honor Those who did, and did not fail. For, my friend, we are their debtors As they died to pave the way For the freedom that's our portion In our way of life today. |
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| © Copyright 1999 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Watcher666 Senior Member
since 1999-10-13
Posts 1606 |
Bravo!!! ------------------ Illusion...what we see and what we do...it's all up to you. |
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