Post by dazb on Jan 11, 2005 14:28:15 GMT -5
PIT LANE
Is a winding lane really so hard to travel?
Summer mornings as the glow appears,
Same day evenings whilst it disappears.
With gentle warmth, one waxing one waning.
Every stride a match with nature gaining.
Early skylarks a rising, singing cause
Dawn blackbird’s song without a pause.
The leaving thoughts are not so heavy
In knowledge of the pleasant striding.
Climb the fence, horses moved with gentle chiding.
One more field and two more fences
Memory of such mornings fix the senses.
Eagerness of youth once sponsored this route
Naive then, this new recruit.
Days in profusion follow this very same way,
As times progress the sunshine erodes
Longer and harder become the roads.
Summer to winter now becomes
Youthful spirit then succumbs.
The spark of gain in knowledge new
Lost in repeat to expectancy due.
Twenty generations of blackbirds known.
Before their song is heard for what it is
A plaintive question as if a quiz
They gain the reply, a new era begins.
But mine’s the same, as if for my sins.
The road changes only in it’s length
And its sad absorption of my strength.
A guiding, routed, well-known march.
At the end of this road without a toll
Fifty years of purpose in a deep dark hole,
The destination of this now well-worn track.
One way travel, no turning back
The sun and songs are just the same
No longer seen as part of a game.
The sun takes sufferance, the snow even more.
The way there and back now brackets the pain,
Prologue and epilogue of a day’s disdain,
The effort between takes second place
Remembered escape to negative grace.
Once a pleasured travel, now a mere allusion
To a working lifetime’s sad conclusion.
Is a winding lane really so hard to travel?
Summer mornings as the glow appears,
Same day evenings whilst it disappears.
With gentle warmth, one waxing one waning.
Every stride a match with nature gaining.
Early skylarks a rising, singing cause
Dawn blackbird’s song without a pause.
The leaving thoughts are not so heavy
In knowledge of the pleasant striding.
Climb the fence, horses moved with gentle chiding.
One more field and two more fences
Memory of such mornings fix the senses.
Eagerness of youth once sponsored this route
Naive then, this new recruit.
Days in profusion follow this very same way,
As times progress the sunshine erodes
Longer and harder become the roads.
Summer to winter now becomes
Youthful spirit then succumbs.
The spark of gain in knowledge new
Lost in repeat to expectancy due.
Twenty generations of blackbirds known.
Before their song is heard for what it is
A plaintive question as if a quiz
They gain the reply, a new era begins.
But mine’s the same, as if for my sins.
The road changes only in it’s length
And its sad absorption of my strength.
A guiding, routed, well-known march.
At the end of this road without a toll
Fifty years of purpose in a deep dark hole,
The destination of this now well-worn track.
One way travel, no turning back
The sun and songs are just the same
No longer seen as part of a game.
The sun takes sufferance, the snow even more.
The way there and back now brackets the pain,
Prologue and epilogue of a day’s disdain,
The effort between takes second place
Remembered escape to negative grace.
Once a pleasured travel, now a mere allusion
To a working lifetime’s sad conclusion.