Posted in Poetry

The Path by L. M. Montes

In morning’s mist I stroll,
along a path that widens,
then narrows to grab hold,
my whole as if I’m hiding,
be strong and be so bold,
in life there is no sliding,
splendor is never seen,
if we cease to try our road,
like an outstretched hand so keen,
we grasp or dump the load,
so take my hand and ever lean,
with help success will bode.


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