Yet Remain to be Sung

As years roll on along their winding path
with months and days branching off to wander 'neath the trees,
I can't help but think of bygone weeks;
how so many moments trigger memory.

Combined, they are a forest
with boughs and twigs intertwining;
Offering shady contemplation,
gifting me with golden lining.

Yet to each leaf assigned sweet idyll
for each new spring brings verdant greenings--
Age blends to scent new flavors
thus garnering new meanings.

Once limber now walk with wooden cane,
traverse these byways with moments hung
and know each step forward gleans symphony:
the strongest and sweetest have yet to be sung.

Err I tire and feel complacent
in all I've traveled, seen and done--
'tis best to listen to all the words
for the strongest and sweetest have yet to be sung.






20 lines

Last line from 'A Backward Glance O'er Traveled Road's (annex to Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman 1888)
"...the strongest and sweetest songs have yet to be sung."