Written along the path I walk.
I see them there, the lines I've drawn.
Both faded and dull.
Never forget, the lines remain.
My mother weeps at the road I've chosen.
The choice was made.
A mistake to be, forget the lines.
They are all but faded.
You see the lines, I see them too.
Follow them if you choose.
Yet be wary my friend.
It will be my path you walk,
not your own.
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Author:
Alfred Lord Tennyson (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 12th, 2018 08:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
Offline)
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