On top of your second mile of a stone— Finally! Just about how it feels. At eighteen, you start to see the future— pathfinding a way home. The past, replaced. Fades as destinations eat the crumbs. Once dropped— You can’t go back now at forty-five. The past and the future starts to hint. Audiences!
Thank you for reading! Which part of the poem resonates with you? Share your thoughts. Please leave a comment. Copyright 2025 K.A. Smith
About the Creator
K.A. Smith
K. A. Smith – published author and poet with experience in architectural design. I try to bring love and life into every poem or story. I believe every piece of art is "effective" in some way. Please follow along, and share your thoughts.
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