On a winding walk in Newstead Wood,
I saw the road Frost travelled,
the long and coveted path to happiness.
As I wandered the winding walk in Newstead Wood,
with Ipod on, playing The Seekers songs, I sought the greater good.
Demon voices lured me in, both internal and external,
though to walk the road less travelled, it’s hardly going to be simple.
Finding many obstacles, exploring different paths,
vision obscured by signposts.
How I’ve learnt less than most.
Wandering in the winding wood, calling out the names
of those before, thereafter, who hardly know no shame.
The gossip’s woeful whisper, the child’s gleeful laugh,
all come to me in spirals along the long and winding path