poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2007


We stood at the crossroads
Where the roads crossed our paths
Stared at each other
With hatred and wrath

We were both cross folks
With crosses on our shoulders
Marching down the long roads
Watching folks grow older

But we, we are immortal
My little brother and I
We've spent many hundred years
Walking under blue sky.

Preaching about god to preachers
Teaching them what we know
Telling them about ourselves
And the way we slowly grow

But this morning at the crossroads
We parted on different paths
And since that day we were separate
Me and my other half

Little brother died fourteen years ago
But I - I'm still going strong
I guess I chose the right path
And he, he chose wrong.