THE LAST
Oh how I ran with chained feet
Morose were days whose eyes fell late with joy
And bent like the willows by early spring
My spine was weak and narrow from everything
I dug with haste to make my stubborn chains
Barricade my heart from you again
You cast your spell like seed on an open field
In hope a harvest late in life would yield.
Then I let go with eyes closed
and fall I did into a complex web
she held me here and I learned to trust
and told me I could walk on the other side
I trampled the strong the shoots of spring in vain
cause hurdle death they did and grow again
they grew like vines to towers where I climbed my best
to reach the first the now to reach the last
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