The Road of Life

When I was young, the road was tough
into many holes I fell, as I did not know
 the ways of the world and knew not enough
and a need to learn, came with each painful blow
I grew tall and strong, with a mind alert
It became a game and with holes I did flirt
with a confidence that denied any if's or but's
I am older now, and of many holes I am aware
by virtue of wisdom, a safe pain I should tread
but now I find, that for all of my care
I stumble near holes that have a different dread.
It would seem to me, that it is futile to think
you can travel the road, with your eyes in the sky.
That you will never be wavering there on the brink
and that you won't need to skirt holes, till the day you die.
In memory of Victor Richmond