The Wanderer and the Lost

The Wanderer and the Lost

 

While lost, but on my own regard,

I came across a bench

An old bench, made of metal wrought

And stained, ancient wood planks,

And it was here I decided

To rest my weary soul

 

This bench made its home in the woods,

Halfway up a small slope

I gazed upon the trees before

As their fall leaves rained down,

And to my surprise, as Chance brought,

Another came to me

 

Lost, she said, just as me, I found

“Perchance, where is the trail?”

I knew where the trail was, in truth,

Although I was lost too

 

I showed her to the trail she sought,

The wanderer I was

Was glad to help another lost

And help them find their way

 

And suddenly I was alone

With naught but a nuthatch

To give my soul some company

As I sat in the woods.