Walking Lonely Miles Poem by James McLain

Strait away paths hedges prick
leaving steps behind I count.
Level flat stones catch wind
of your preferred years.
Afternoon can pause moments
hold on time to a stagnant day.
Weather folds clouds daisies
bring unwanted sniffles breeze.
Breath caught shoulders bowed
honored days lost in the dawn.
Befuddled temples Salmon grey
something about strange words.
Whispers hauntingly wrap lost in
ground ageing hands gold sword.
Books white bound bloody pictures
dust the pages silver press prints.
Knowing not halls of strange stone
mounting faces stitched together.
Miles of walking strangers together.