I'm taking a walk
down Swan Meadow road;
I'm older and wiser than when
I last came this way,
so just for a day,
I'll walk in my footsteps again.
The road and the river
both turn as they run;
As a youngster, just older than ten,
I passed by the bridge
to sit on the ridge,
and think on the workings of men.
The mill still stands by,
but never did I think
that I would be earning my bread
in it's cotton-filled rooms,
'mongst the laps and the looms,
to keep all my family fed.
No, now as I keenly
reflect on that time,
down Swan Meadow road, decades past;
With hindsight it seems
a mere handful of dreams,
and by them that my lot was then cast.
No glory for me,
my path up ahead
lay squarely with brawn and not brain;
My innocence ruled,
by this I was fooled,
but knew not, so couldn't complain.
So, I'll retrace my steps
via Swan Meadow road -
such a regal and sweet-sounding name -
And I have few regrets,
life just slipped through the nets,
but it's only myself I can blame.
(Written March 2014)
Wistful, evocative poem, John. Captures the atmosphere of this road and the mill that have drawn you back to them over the years. In reminiscing you've made a poem that draws readers to it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi, John, this is my favorite of all your writings, so poignant and rich with emotion. Connie