Colin F. Jones

WHITHER THY ROAD DOTH WEND

We may eat at this one table without despair,
But the plate we eat from we will never share,
For birds have nests that decorate the trees,
And the seeds of dandelions use the summer breeze.
And who in wisdom can count another’s strides,
And follow his footprints to where his soul resides,
Though oft some false pretender becomes supreme,
His wider knowledge is just a foolish dream.
For who can edit the lines of another’s rhyme,
Who writes from experience of a passing time,
Where none but he did trespass as he passed,
Into the places where his life was cast.
Indeed who would rebuke his point of view,
Would be lacking knowledge and have little else to do.