whatever

personal

My Aunt, never lived to tell the tale; She was the name sake of a lesser trail.

 

I followed it: unknown to me,

 

looking for a meaning that was never meant to be.

 

We all believed that we were original; and found that we were frail,

 

not the product of strong stuff; not to be derailed.

 

We fought, and prospered, gaining a kind of place;

 

a place of fortitude, a place of trust.

 

Later, denuded of our thought, we found denied,

 

what a common rut.