Life is not a yellow brick road,
But more of a march down the road less traveled.

We can plot out our trip on a chalkboard,
Follow the map to Plymouth Rock,
Or take a taxi anywhere on land
That we can afford to go.

But life is not a yellow brick road
Or a brown-paper package
Wrapped up invitingly.

It’s more of a journey
Of tissues, scars, scratches, and scrapes.

The funny thing is,
Like the pain of labor to bring a child into this world,
We forget most of the trials
In our moments of sweetness
On our march down the road less traveled!

—
My response to Linda Kruschke’s
Paint Chip Poetry Prompt #42.