The Wayfarers

I look back sometimes, to see the path i tread on,
To see if i missed a turn, or a patch of grass to lay on.

A twig that i should have picked up, which i snapped in my stead,
A pebble that i ignored, when i should have kicked it instead.

A leaf that i brushed away might have nestled amidst the pages,
The wounded birds that i could have nursed, have now been trapped in cages.

The wayfarers that crossed my path, could have become companions,
The tufts of clouds that sheltered me, now seek far off horizons.

The tree i carved my name onto, to find my way back home,
It withered while it stood in wait, only to perish alone.

I look back sometimes to only see a lot of things undone,
As much i try, i cant go back, i've missed another turn.