No Primrose Path


Iíve walked a mile in otherís shoes,

Worn out my very own,

Reaped the harvest from the crop,

Of wild oats I have sown.


Learned to turn the other cheek,

Give benefit of doubt,

Forced my voice to remain soft,

When I felt need to shout.


Iíve learned to accept, all of those things,

I have no way to change,

Learned how to say ĎIím sorryí,

And assume my share of blame.


Iíve learned there is no Primrose path,

But bumps in Lifeís long road,

Coupled sometimes with surprise,

Of unexpected load.


Iíve learned that life is only what,

We tend to make of it,

Result of where we made a jump,

Location where we lit.


Iíve made my choices knowing,

Iíve one chance to get it right,

To prepare now, the best I can,

Ahead of Deathís dark night.


©  2004  Loree (Mason) OíNeil

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