A Poet's Progress (Poetry)

It’s up the hills and down the dales
and through the land of fairytales
it’s weathering the sun and rain
finding faith, enduring pain
imagining a better place
remembering love’s dearest face ...

It’s wandering through forests deep
and rambling the realms of sleep
sailing wild uncharted seas
with a young heart but aging knees
and writing, writing — keeping track
old postcard poems linking back

to what now seems another world
where hope like fresh new leaves unfurled
and promise lit the morning skies
there some bright vision’s flag still flies
the clouds drift small, the mind floats free
life’s full of possibility ...

Those times have changed and night rolls on
the rosy-tinted day near-gone
the journey’s had its highs and lows
but every seasoned traveller knows
whatever far-flung roads they roam
eventually they head for home

And there they find among those things
that bring a smile a bell that rings
a comfy chair in a warm nook
the friendship of a well-thumbed book
a room created like a nest
where they can dream ... and write ... and rest ...

Then write and write — then write some more
recording what it’s all been for
a diary of their years in verse
the good — the better — and the worse
all poets hope when they are gone
the words they leave might yet live on