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.