Faster - Poem by D A Phinney

I hit the road full tilt, some Thought to tell
As hastening, hastening I went running down,
Scattering chickens by the flock, pell-mell,
Pursued by destiny, that further town
Where I might lay my wisdom at the feet
Of aged men who sit and feed the birds;
Men who, though with minds no longer complete,
Would, all the same, stare 'stonished at my words.
Bewitched by my Idea's lofty state,
I quicked my pace till it was fair sublime,
For I had no intent on being late
And brooked no least intrusion on my time.
But did I pass up friends? It's hard to say.
And loves I might have won? I can't be sure:
For in my memory they, statues, stay,
Brief images; and I in theirs, a-blur.
I paid no mind to side roads wand'ring through
Meadows, flower-enflamed, that beckoned there;
Nor to any shade-soaked lane, nor to
The siren sound of carnival or fair.
But straightway went with swifter swifter glide
Until, at last arrived in town, I brought
Myself to this bench where, collapsed, I cried,
For, in the headlong rush-I lost the Thought.

Poems by D A Phinney

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