HIS ROAD TAKEN.

A MAN WALKS HIS OWN ROAD AFTER TRAGEDY

He would have taken
that road, but that road
was taken, so he walked
elsewhere, where she

wasn't there, where her
perfume never reached,
where her eyes never
stared, where her lips

never spoke. The road
was lonely, there was
no traffic, no birds sang,
no nothing, but his sure

footsteps on the hard road,
and the echo of them after
he walked. The other road
was where they had once

walked together, where
they had laughed and sang,
the other road was narrow,
and birds chirped and flew,

and she had said: I love you,
love you, love you. Now
all was quiet; this road was
deserted: no traffic came or

people passed or talked, or
she not there to laugh or cry,
and his only companion was
the echo of her voice : why?