Temptation
Come I now to crossroads barren
No help have I which way to go
Now desert me, fame and fortune
My fickleness has naught to show
Such thoughts tend to leave me weary
steeped in mire of my own design
A windblown place, drab and dreary
with no happiness or sunshine
Know I better than there linger
Grand funk is never really grand
Hang the prize a little higher
On solid rock is where I stand
Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2013
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