My journey
Birds fly off to the winter sun,
Musicians play their tunes,
Sirens sound throughout the night,
And my own leaving looms
Ahead of me, and yet my path
Is still unknown to me.
I have no way of knowing,
How good my life might be.
Which path to take to lead me on,
So different from my past.
Which road will be my journey?
My own; my first, my last.
And critical stuff is welcome
Birds fly off to the winter sun,
Musicians play their tunes,
Sirens sound throughout the night,
And my own leaving looms
Ahead of me, and yet my path
Is still unknown to me.
I have no way of knowing,
How good my life might be.
Which path to take to lead me on,
So different from my past.
Which road will be my journey?
My own; my first, my last.
And critical stuff is welcome