Roads

Roads

Some roads are just for walking
when I'm feeling hurt.
A place where I'll be talking
to the gravel and the dirt.

I'll kick my feet and stir the dust
in a temper's growing rage.
So angry as I snarl disgust
like a Tiger in a cage.

When finally, the dust has cleared
the road still lies ahead.
Things unchanged as I had feared
as I look at how I've tread.

Some roads will run like ribbons
flowing endlessly along.
They'll never hear my problems
just play a lovely song.

There are the roads that I don't know,
to that other unknown place.
Where the sun is setting very low,
someone else is losing face.

There is the road that's hard to see
for the dust and for the dirt.
This was my road and meant for me
with its anger and its hurt.