The Winding Path Poem by David Lewis Paget

The Winding Path



I met myself on a winding path
With the beach ten yards away,
Walking slowly towards me then
By the pounding breakers spray,
The path was narrow, I stepped aside
As I felt a twinge of fear,
We both were startled, I heard us say,
‘What are you doing here? ’

I looked at me as I must have been
At the age of thirty-one,
And I was visibly shaken, seeing
Just how the years had gone,
‘I’m not quite how I envisaged me,
Were the years ahead so hard? ’
I felt a chill and replied to me,
‘I was hoist on my own petard.’

‘What has become of our hopes and dreams,
The ones that we must have shared? ’
‘I let them slip through my fingers, once
I noticed that no-one cared.’
‘I always said that I’d have to fight
For the things that I held dear, ’
‘But the years have changed, and rearranged
For none of those things are here.’

With one last look at each other, we
Then parted and turned away,
I to a desperate future,
And me to my dying day,
The I then turned that was thirty-one
‘Can you tell what happened to She? ’
I couldn’t remember the one I meant,
‘She’s certainly not with me! ’

1 March 2015

Sunday, March 1, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: sad love
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Lawrence Beck 01 March 2015

This poem is very nicely done.

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
David Lewis Paget

David Lewis Paget

Nottingham, England/live in Australia
Close
Error Success