Our paths were straight
Never bent,
Never twisted,
Never intertwined
Your path started easy
Nice and smooth
Bringing you to joy and success
While mine was hard
The beginning
rough and raggedy,
Inconsistent
And not to be trusted
You walked steadily along your road
And I mine
Until one day I saw you
My path had brought more troubles upon me
It was as if I walked 'cross a bridge
Made of rope
and aged sycamore
But you saw me
In my pain and anguish
You rescued me
From my regret and sorrows
You allowed me to join you on your path
I walked with you
Down the gently paved road
You led with joy and pride
But slowly
And gradually
You pressed forward
Leaving me in your dust
You left me lost without your guidance and protection
I had no choice
But to return to my path
What I found was different
A new path
Heading in a new direction
Beside your own
Even so
I remained more lost
and broken than before
All that was left of me,
All that crossed my mind
Was memories of when of paths met
Memories
Of when our paths became parallel
YOU ARE READING
Blooming Words
Poetrywords don't write themselves Instead, they grow and bloom in the minds of us all
