Byways

A lane rose steeply off to the right.
It flanked the mountainside a little crookedly,
tunneling beneath hemlocks
before disappearing from sight
and rolling on forever
into other byways
across mountains
and through valleys
that I would never see.
It called to me, that road.
In promising tones,
it chanted the old, old song of my soul:
Come away. Turn away.
This is the path of
adventure,
freedom,
solitude,
peace.
After all these years,
the anthem is unchanged:
Discover. Escape.
And when I’m old,
that road will still beckon.
Come away. Turn away.
This is the song of every way
I’ve ever had to shun;
once it rang with promise,
tantalizing and sweet,
but today the sacred song accuses me,
for we’ve both learned
that I do not come away.
I never turn aside.