The Mysterious Disease

He held his head high, he was one of the elite, no one would ever find out his secret. His robe was as luxurious, gleaming white as the best. His locks shining like a dark resplendent crown upon his intelligent brow.  As he laughed, joked or discoursed learnedly according to the occasion, his eyes twinkled with life; even they did not give away his deep dark secret.

The Stepping Stones of Life

  In the beautiful valley of Somewhere    

Lies a woodland green and lush

Where the melody of a songbird

Scatters the evening hush.

The dewdrops are sparkling sweetly

On the bluebells, violets and rose

And through the slanting sunlight

A moss-covered footbridge shows.

Meandering footstones are leading

Leading me who-knows-where;             

Sometimes through wild flower meadows

Sometimes near Wolf and the bear.

    

Flat rugged stones of beauty

Marking the pathway for me

But in the deepening darkness 

They fade to obscurity 

A tiny frail lantern is lifted

As I pick my way through the gloam*  

 This lovely, faint footpath I’ll cherish

For it is guiding me Home.

 Marilyn Friesen