The excitement of the journey,
Has changed to a numbness,
You are predicting anytime,
Thoughts arranging the mind.
As the trail ahead narrows,
The terrain, slows the pace,
Fewer crossroads, we pass,
Basic survival, to the last.
From those in the front,
We follow their step's,
Obstructions, in the way,
To the ending stay.
Tom Maxwell copyright 12/25/2018 A.D.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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