Guided Track
Myriad of directions,
from the point I stand on,
nobody to guide me thereupon,
a hapless me stands,
and moves a bit,
before I retrace,
and get back the origin hit,
my moves are slow,
my time is running out,
I know I have to move about,
who will help and know,
the direction in I which I bow,
come to me and hold my hand,
lets go together,
around the next bend,
I would have preferred,
a man to whom everybody referred,
who had seen it all,
gone and played the distance ball,
and returned back,
so that he could take me on guided track.
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