Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Supposed.

The path was


supposed 

to be followed.
Maybe a little meandering for some ripe berries
or a daisy or two.
But the path was a path of brilliancy.
It curved through delicate timbers
and rapid rivers
and had such spectacular views 
it was impossible to imagine 
if the path ever ended
and if it did
or did not
how much more spectacular it should be
around the bends. 


But one day she looked down and there wasn't a path. 
She couldn't remember straying.
She couldn't remember being distracted.
She couldn't remember being absent minded. 
She just suddenly
wasn't 
on 
it. 


So she stopped. 


Because that's what you're 

supposed 

to do
when you get lost. 

1 thoughts:

Autumn April 5, 2012 at 4:34 PM  

I love it. It very much reminds me of "Blackberrying" by Sylvia Plath (my favorite poet). :D

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