A bench; sat upon
by me.

A man form the lodge beside brings me a bowl of steaming chili
and a cup of mellow hot chocolate;
simmers.
The man inside the lodge plays Van Morrison on his speakers.

Winters, or summers
it is a quest
to realize this bliss; a rest
that you do not go amiss
while running madly
throughout busy reality.

The end of the maze may be found
in unlikely places
or even in places you have checked before.
And although they are nice, you do not need
a flesh-and-blood
brown-eyed-girl
to guide you.

That path is for
your steps alone.