The Lane

. . .

The Lane

From that lane I ran so fast,
As fast as I could flee.

Indeed from that lane I ran,
Puzzled by what I'd seen.

The fast lane ruled each waking hour.
From rise to slumber, weighing stead.

Personal sublime, riddle a rhyme,
Pondering that lane in me.

Now kind mercy in morning light,
That lane has set me free.

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