The Bog

Leaving the life once lived
How many skins
Must be shed 

Down the back road
Tripping on gravel &
Traversing the ditch
Stinging nettle waits
Before meeting the bog

Deep, dark and muddy
The bottom invites
Sinking through time
Visiting joys, tears, regrets
Grand children, never known.

What is calling forth
Turn left or right
South towards warmth
North towards cold
East or west

Leaving a life once lived
Many skins
Have been shed
Leaving little resemblance

Mark Mularz