A dark fuzz of fog
I try to see through the cloak of the future
As I wend my way unsteadily down the stream of time.
The questions, like jagged rocks, threaten me
While I stroke my boat,
And squint for the slightest hint of daylight.
Dark and gnarled trees of doubt overhang the river in spots
Combing their twiggy fingers through my hair
Tickling the back of my neck
Stabbing my chest
I glance back
No darkness, no fog, no trees
Clear,
Bright,
But the river moves too swiftly
And contemplating behind is useless.
I've been there.
I can only learn from it
And hope for the sun.

4 responses total.

This is actually myfirst poem in a while so...

Please, be gentle.

I enjoyed it.  Of course, I wonder if there is symbolic meaning.

That's the neatest phrasing of "Hindsight is 20/20" I've ever seen.

<bows> Thank you, Russ.

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