Hiking Down The Walk of Life

Melancholy cooing of a lonely dove
Woke me up from my brief reverie
Senses lulled by gentle soothing sound
Of the gurgling merry stream
Hiking by the side of the creek
I was lost in thoughts rushing down
Memory lane by the walk of life
As I gently put one foot in front of the other
Bikers passed me by
Riders on their majestic horses
Casting a sideways glance
Line between surviving and thriving
Somehow merged into obscurity in the past
This is a journey where the quarter mile markers
Add on to mile markers towards my destined goal
True destiny’s path remains unmarked
Unlike my familiar hiking trail
Every corner, every turn is new
As sweat beads up on my forehead
Perspiration streamed down my face
Mixed with ubiquitous sunscreen stinging my eyes
A new mother pushing her kid on a stroller passes by
Eyes glued to the screen of a cell phone, chests heaving
My eyes straying to the buxom bosoms
Chastising silently for my transgression
I move forward on my walk of life
A couple sitting on a bench
Reminiscing perhaps of the bygone days
Eyes unfocused, I do not register as I pass by
Traveler, tired, eyes closed, lying down
Joggers with their dogs in leash and tow
Forces me from my path
Do the dogs know where they are heading
Involuntarily my hand gently caresses my neck
Searching  for the invisible leash
Of the unknown choreographer
A hare darts across the trail
Hurrying to the perceived safety of the bushes
Up in the sky the bird of prey, circling
Eyes set on the target swoops down
Did the hare knew its time had come
My weary legs complaining I trudge along
The path to my destination
I turn a corner and part company from the stream
Little do I know where to turn on my walk of life
To meet the boatman taking me across the river
I pass by the local school
The old batch of seniors have passed
And moved away
Sprucing up the facility to welcome
A new batch of students for the coming year
Somewhere at this moment a new life has sprung
To begin an unique journey traversed by all
Just a spectator, no journals kept
Every path different but destination same
Looked at my wristwatch to check the time
The hands had stopped, may be an omen
Does it matter, it is just a matter of time
To cross the last mile marker and rest
On the unmarked walk of life

Author: pranabaxom

Poetry is my passion. I am not a methodical writer. I have no set topics to write about. What I feel, perceive, think about, I will like to share in this blog. I open my mind to the world. Like the weather, sometimes my poems are cloudy, sometimes stormy. I always like to see sunshine streaming through the leaves of trees, so I hope I can share some of those sunshine with my readers.

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