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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1891154
Rated: E · Poetry · Adult · #1891154
A special poem about a road that I use to walk on when I was a young child.

-Maple Road-
by
Keaton Foster

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By the lake
Down at the end
Of a winding road
Is another road
One not known
One not made
By any city or state
A private drive
Leading off into the woods
Leading off towards an
Eternally distant horizon
As a child I would walk it
For hours it would go on
Into the New England countryside
Never reaching its end
I was thankful for the journey it provided
In time I came to know each curve
In time I came to each stone
On each side of the road
Stood many timeless maple trees
Witnesses to my childhood pain
As well as the pain of so many others
Silent creatures of life
That would always lend an ear
Sometimes I would pick one to sit under
For hours I would escape
For hours I would hide in the shade
No one would ever find
Of course the truth is
That no one was ever looking for me
The captives of my pain knew
More than anyone that ultimately
There was no place that I could go
Sometimes long after the night would fall
But long before the day would again stand tall
I would find my way back home
Hunger often echoed in my soul
Worrisome by design I had to know
I was a child of no means
And those who held the keys
Those who controlled my fate
Knew that I would be coming back
They would wait for as long as it took
They would make me pay
If for a second I told them
Of the hope and peace I often felt
Walking down such a road unknown
I never told them, it was my secret
My salvation amongst absolute darkness
I would never share with them
The peace such a path offered me
My childhood seemed to last forever
Then one day I became an adult
A young man own his own
I left New England, moving far away
Across a thousands of miles of sea
Never telling anyone where I had gone
Fading into the canvass of existence
Many years later I would return
Not to see anyone who remained
But to walk that unknown road
The one that I knew so well
I was surprised to find that the area
Had been developed and the road paved
There were houses and farms
Spaced every few miles
The road had finally been named
Upon a green sign read the words
Maple Road
Just like I did when I was a kid
I walked it for as far as I could
Many of my old, silent friends
Now much taller and stronger
Still lined the way
I was sure to say hello to each one of them
I was sure to let them know that I was ok
And that I had managed to survive
Under their shade I made my way
On that day I walked further than ever before
But still Maple Road went on
Further towards an eternally distant horizon…




Maple Road
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012.

© Copyright 2012 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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