The Swamp
Through the swamp, muck, and stink
Boots squish and stick to mud.
The left lost in a wink;
Regret begins to bud.
Thoughts of going back sprouts
As crawling, compact vines.
Pride holds him back, but doubts,
They flood the mind with signs.
Too late—too long he thought.
The plants discreetly grew.
They wound about so taut,
All that’s left is the shoe.
Through the swamp, muck, and stink
Boots squish and stick to mud.
The left lost in a wink;
Regret begins to bud.
Thoughts of going back sprouts
As crawling, compact vines.
Pride holds him back, but doubts,
They flood the mind with signs.
Too late—too long he thought.
The plants discreetly grew.
They wound about so taut,
All that’s left is the shoe.
