May 2nd I wander to and fro
I wander to
and fro,
From where
to when,
To if and
then,
I hesitate
And do
nothing.
I resign and
realign
And accept
that it’s not yet time.
‘It’s a
dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door
You step
onto the road and if you don’t keep your feet
There’s
no knowing where you might be swept off to’
Trouble is.
I might just leave it too late.
If I try and
book a perfect break
At a time
that suits us both.
I fall over
myself to be fair,
And care,
And that is
right and is a promise made.
‘Rain may
fall and wind may blow
And many
miles be still to go
But under
a tall tree I shall lie
And let
the clouds go sailing by’
Adventure
calls. Even at 70.
To roam and
sit alone, cogitate.
At vistas
new and fresh air too,
A chance to
be lonely,
When it’s
just me only.
Or to a
stranger talk, and a new friend make…
I could list
the places I want to go.
From rolling
Welsh hills overlooking the sea.
To lakes and
mountains valley.
To repeated
anniversary climb.
Cottages for
us all.
Or camping
hiking along a wall.
‘Sweet is
the sound of the pouring rain
And the
stream that falls from hill to plain’
So, I must
start.
Bit by bit.
Day away;
even overnight…
And allow
myself to dare,
And to
excite
But not just
yet…
Mmmm… Not quite…
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