Strolling along, hand in hand,
But going nowhere
slowly
Meandering, unsure.
Marching toward mountains,
but then retreating at roadblocks
Tiptoeing into sheltered retreats.
Wondering why the path revisits
this same tired scenery:
Stagnant pools,
Where the bored and complacent
share complaints freely.
I haven’t a clue how we got here,
‘cept we kept not choosing
the overgrown paths -
of the road less traveled.
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