The race
Once I was in a race
It was noted,
For, Vigor of fancy
Strength of passion
The winner would
Take with him
Whom he loved in youth
Distinctly the remembrance
Lives without parameters
Of confined restriction
On the deeply grooved path
that led through
Devirse terrain
Divided by streams and calm waters
Places so pristine
That paradice could only describe
Being a race,
Never, was time to stop.
As the years mount
Become accumlated,
In numbers.
Will this race ever end
poem by Howard Johnson
Added by Poetry Lover
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