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Wending
The road narrows, I have outgrown highways,
any future travelling will be accompanied
to the sound of the echoing boards
of covered bridges.
The past has caught me gazing
into star maps only tomorrow may follow.
Fast lanes have become red dirt tracks,
the 'far away' rushes to be my next footfall,
a landing at the end of a headlong dash
that has led me to consider
a slow meandering pilgrimage,
to the next bend ahead
a place where the unknown curves.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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