Strolling

 
I met you strolling in the park  
A wistful beauty sad and hurt  
So much I felt the pain.  
I was unready (so I thought)  
to start another life,  
walked the park again  
stayed to walk it yet again.  
Where this may lead I do not know  
must not ask....Whom to ask?  
The future not mine to know,  
I can but cast a backward glance  
see from whence I came,
remember every stone I tripped  
each muddy patch I trod.  
There will be hills to climb  
and risks to take,  
No more than yesterday.  
no less than tomorrow  
The way may  twist and turn,
look no further than the bend,  
enjoy each hedge and verge,  
the line is straight between  
from now to then.  
It is the road that turns.