Promenade

Lead me from tortured dreams

Childhood themes of nights alone.

Wipe away endless years,

Childhood tears as dry as stone.

From seeds of confusion,

Illusions dark blossoms have grown.

Even now in furrows of sorrow

The dark still is sown.

My life's course is guided

Decided by limits drawn

On charts of my past ways

And pathways since I was born.