On The Way
by Donald Loudon
Crispy snow falls to the ground
on crispy dew all around

Throwing all in sight of air
flowing hither and flowing there

Longing to play with the ball
laying on down around the wall

Seconds come in want to play
taking on minutes both night and day

Take along your sweet heart and soul
living loving your only goal

At the point that we did shout
not at all sure we got it out

Sweeping winds in growing breeze
all that which is there to please

On the way toward the bridge
spotting you running on the ridge
Comments would be appreciated by the author, Donald Loudon
 
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The Poem