The Lake

I take my steps beside the lake and stare to where the water stops,

and in these moments I adhere to nothing less than broken thoughts.

My dreams, my hopes, they fret among the boughs of trees that fell,

from whence they leaned a touch to far to see their own reflections.

As I drift from meandering want to hapless doubt, I give a smile,

and look to where the bridge will come to take me a little further.

It’s walks like these that give a meaning to all the days and countless nights

that tread upon the mind and lead to furrowed brows and wrinkled foreheads.

For in the bad, we see the good, and in the good, we yearn for more,

Still, steps around this lake can help the years to drift away.

And in these steps I always see what wrongs I have besotted,

as what happiness would come with ease, could evade my every notice.

These very steps still give my heart the courage to think harder,

but truth be told, the less I think, the more I live with candor.

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