There was a road that I could not guide,
A long, winding road full of kind dreams,
But I could not stop the danger, no matter how hard I tried,
So her road ended, and I pushed on.
There was a road, for a girl who loved to dance and skip,
But the road was cut short,
And I sat in a white bed, with her on my hip,
Promising the road would go on and we’d face it together, but her road ended in a big white room, and my road goes on forever.
There is a road that crawls to a cemetery, near a big white church,
And I go sit there and often wonder,
Beside two gravestones under the strong silver birch,
Of where those two roads travelled into heaven that I cannot see.
— Roads, WAR, by Angela R. Watts (copyright 2018 all rights reserved)