I gaze behind
Swift and certain
That all that was,
Were memories of
Things that became
The future of the past.
…
You think not?
Then lose a moment
To win a future
And look behind
To the road
On which you
Stumbled,
Walked,
Ran,
And hopped.
And left behind
Little piles of
Names and places,
Scars and flowers,
Tears and laughter.
…
Is that not
The same road
On which you
Stand and
Move forward?