by Richard Vince
Two lines diverged on a plain,
But I was too late to see them.
In my mind’s eyes the place exists
In the monochrome of borrowed memory.
Perhaps it is the locked away
Corner of my mind to which I retreat
When I need to be alone in
My own head; when I am aware
That I have not reached my destination
Because I could go either way.
There are other such locations
That I know better, but maybe
That is the key: what I need is
The unknown, and an adventure
Across unexplored territory to find it.
The windswept platform in black and white
Stands empty apart from my lone figure
And a sign that tells me
Where I am, but not where I could go.
Posted on 03/13/2019
Copyright © 2019 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Glenn Currier on 03/16/19 at 03:17 PM|
Ah! Richard! You did it again. Brought me across the pond into your world: "monochrome of borrowed memory" and the images of the diverging lines and the lone figure on the platform pausing thinking of possibilities are just magnificent and so soul piercing - for me anyway. Thanks for this beautiful brief journey.