Reading Time: < 1 minute

Poem

A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye,
Accessible to thill of bee,
Or cart of butterfly.

If town it have, beyond itself,
‘T is that I cannot say;
I only sigh,- no vehicle
Bears me along that way.

Previous Poem
A little Madness in the Spring
Next Poem
A Little Snow Was Here And There