The End Of A Long Road
We travelled the corrugations until the end

Twenty four years of twists, turns and a bumpy ride,
In between bouts of smooth bitumen and happy meanderings,
I often wonder which of us had control of the wheel,
But I don’t think either of us did at any given time,
Not on the night we first met,
Not while we traversed the best of our adventures,
And certainly not when we came to the end of the road.
******
It was, without doubt, the best ride of my life,
With so many memories that’ll wander with me into old age,
I still feel our best times,
Cry over our worst times,
But I have never regretted the love my heart holds for you.
*******
However, there’s no such thing as forever,
Not even on my most favourite road trip,
The open road still calls but has asked us to take different tracks,
I can only hope that the opposite directions we travel are smooth,
Paved with the wonder, love and happiness we’ll no longer experience together.
*******
Safe travels my favourite stranger,
Remember to stop often and smell the roses,
I hope you’ll remember me a time or two,
Remember the good trips we rode together,
And I hope those memories override those where we come unglued.
*******
You taught me so many lessons,
You built my strength until it has a steel like edge,
You taught me the lessons on tough love,
In fact, you taught me everything you know,
Lessons I’ll hold tight for the rest of my days.
******
This, my love, will be my final gift to you,
Sent to you on the wings of a black crow,
Listen to the whispers on the wind and you’ll hear my voice,
“Be happy honey, live in the integrity of your soul,
And know that I thank you for the years, tears, laughter and love,
As this time we both let go.”
*******
Our trip has ended at a dead end street,
I’ll go right, you’ll go left,
And our shadows shall never again meet,
The past will be put to bed, undressed on a rare occasion of reminisce,
So, here is my final goodbye, sent with grace,
As we unwind from a past that has died a natural death.
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.



Comments (5)
The first lines caught me on this one. Glad I didn’t scroll past it.
So poignant yet so beautifully written. Loved your poem!
Sad, yet beautiful and necessary.
Accept my salute.
A lovely sentiment on a fond farewell. Every trail eventually branches… Even if only at death. Travel your path with eyes forward.