AT EACH TURN

Wrapped so snugly
In the hands of time
It is but memory
Its taste sublime
Down by the river
On scented air
Wisping days
Now in disarray.

The roads that lead
A crossroad brings
Its marbled choice
With glittered wings
At each turn
Right or left
The wrong step
Leaves bereft.

The majesty of
The rising sun
Brings new day
Its life begun
As new shoots in
Springtimes colour
Bad memories
We attempt to smother.