Circular Paths

I’ve been this way before, in the bright lush woods.
I’ve seen those smiling women, in dark, velvet hoods.
I remember these little creeks, these ancient trees.
I remember, then the memory flies away and flees.

A girl splashes a boy in the creek, they are so sweet.
But no, she is woman, he a man, and he lays at her feet.
No, they are old, holding hands, content in the soft sun.
No, that is me, that is her, that is the life I’d just now begun.

 And, again, I am at the begining, at the end, tired and cold.
I was young, then I was strong, and now I am already old.
The women in dark velvet hoods come for me, and lay me
down on the track, a newborn, who forgets, what will be.
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