“Narrow are the paths we travel” Gun Roswell


The narrowest of streets I walk
No one here trying me to stalk
Only an alley cat at me will gawk

As I keep on going, fastening my pace
Looking forward to that new place
Because, for me, it’s always the chase
For something new and exiting
Something pleasant and inviting
For my mind and body, enticing

But what ever I find at the end
I know I wont long there spend
Because I know I usually tend
To leave, before the good things start

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