The Lonely Road
It was masked by massive tall oaks
The lonely road
Rivers of tears flanked its path
By each end a crying bath
The lonely road
The sharp and bumpy gravel
I used to travel
The lonely road
With frigid bones and bare feet
Not a scrap to eat
The lonely road
Reminded me of nothing
Nothing but sorrow
To hell with today
The same with tomorrow
The lonely road
A path to my end
Sorrow to spend
On the lonely road
Of tales untold.
poem by John Shea
Added by Poetry Lover
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