Roam

It’s harder these days to plead naïve.
Now cresting my own midsummer’s eve.

Looking for chances to change my tune.
No bounty of options past youth’s boon.

Still, I scan where the boundary’s thin…
For modest paths missed amid youth’s din.

Maybe one trodden by thoughtful feet?
One fine to walk alone, or discreet?

Maybe in dusky twilight boredom;
I’ll find his tracks & sprint toward him.