Road March

The road begins,

It lays before me and seems to never end.

The first few steps are joyous and upbeat,

But the road is ever changing beneath my feet.

I make my first turn into the woods,

Treacherous and dangerous I stood.

Moving forward continuing down the road,

I changed my pace and faster I strolled.

The path grows uphill,

As the rocks and trees stand still.

I march forward as the trees grow around,

My head moves straight my stare is down.

The rocks make me clumsy,

My steps grow flimsy.

Its time to rest,

I sit and adjust.

Back on the road I march,

As my back begins to arch.

The hill grows steep,

And I stride my feet.

At the top of the hill I can see,

The most terrifying part of the road awaits me.

The rocks transform into sand,

And humbles me to my knees and hands.

I pick myself up and dust the sand off,

I must change my pace from here to the forest top.

The change is good though the sand is thick,

In the woods I found a cane shaped like a stick.

With cane in hand, I continue on my journey,

As my feet begin to burn with an unpleasant throbbing.

The forest top I can see,

As I make my way through sand and trees.

The end is here,

Now I sit and begin to reflect,

As the sun slowly begins to set.

The journey is done,

And night has begun.

I lay my cane to rest,

And place my hands across my chest.