by Christine Redderoth-Roderick
The path was long and one she wanted to take.
It was like a stream of consciousness,
one she couldn't let go of.
Where it started was of no concern to her
nor did she care where it might lead.
She knew she had no choice but
to walk that path good or bad.
Aesthetically she was drawn
to its beauty.
The smoothness of the wood against
the deep green held her captive.
She would see the path in her dreams.
She would think about it in
the middle of the day.
When alone she would visualize
walking down it,
each time wondering how far
she would get before
something would jolt her
back to reality.
The journey was never the same
and never what she expected.
The magic of the path was
the unknown and she secretly
hoped the path had no end.
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