A Back Road Followed

Remembering my Youth

In case you wonder follow these words: 

On a road that bends like a swallow’s throat or on a road straight like an arrow to the stars,

 I follow my feet to a place arrived. 

In that silence, still, very still with a muse of youth,

 I arrive at a place that remains my youth.

 If he comes gently from some old history of mine I shake his hand,

 I'm glad to have met mine, 

but if he comes like a storm in a rage, 

a whisper of cry shall take his place. 

Reviews

[Alfred Kukitz]

Thanks Ron. I trust my evaluation helped.

[ron]

Love the metaphor in this one.


I'm glad to have met mine,

but if he comes like a storm in a rage,

a whisper of cry shall take his place.

[Alfred Kukitz]

Again thank you for visiting it is very encouraging.

[Aethereal]

This poem has an intriguing metaphor. There's that "Road Not Taken" and then there's that "Road Retaken". If only we could travel that “Yellow Brick Road” again knowing what we know now, then how much more would we notice the flowers growing along the way to Oz? The joy is in path and not the destination.

[Latifa]

beautiful use of metaphor in this piece of poetry.

[Alfred Kukitz]

Thanks Chris. Boyhood was a mixed metaphor!