Some jumbled prose

While I was cleaning up an apartment that I (incorrectly) believed I had been invited to tidy, I came across some roughly folded papers that had formed a sort of sedimentary layer at the bottom of a bag. After I managed to excavate the area and unfold the badly damaged bits of papers (mostly receipts, bills, and warning letters from an institution) I discovered that somebody had written bits of poems on them in a fading blue ink. Unfortunately, the owners of the apartment returned before I could properly transcribe them, and I was evicted - in all fairness quite politely- from the premises.


I was young and foolish when the road first called to me
I thought if I ran fast enough I could glimpse eternity,
just beyond the horizon as far as the eye can see
The setting sun and the rising road beckoned dreamily.

The wind has wandered far tonight,
and it must rest 'neath twinkling stars

the wind is weary, worn and spent
and settles sweet its beating heart.

The moon is old and wise and wary
of the vows it hears youths swear
for Love is ancient, strong and doughty,
and cannot be summoned by empty air.

The wind breathes hard as it runs its race:
a sprint above the world around
but keeps up straight its determined face
towards the end - if it can be found.

I am young and foolish still and the road still calls to me
though where I go I do not know for it bends most dreadfully
My favorite tales are grim to read where the end is hard to see
I only hope this winding road will one day set me free.