I sat silently at the dining table one morning. Country music was playing via Bluetooth to my hearing aids. Alan Jackson “The Older I Get” was playing. This song took me off in deep thought. I began musing through my own life. Through the rights and many wrongs, from Blessings and deep heartaches, a long journey over sixty years.. I asked myself a question. If I had a shot to return the clock to a date or time, would I? The obvious answer would be “With a heartbeat yes”.. But the Poem I wrote carried this thought and question even further. I invite you to read on to view for yourself.
To fill you in completely, This is A lyrical Video of Alan Jackson “The Older I get”. It is the source of my inspiration for this Poem.
This is the best possible image for this Poem. Which works for this Poem and for this topic. All thanks go to AI that provides an image that works for this task. Thus credit goes to AI for the image.
For all the roads we walk, the joys we hold, and the losses that shape us, a quiet journey through time, memory, and grace.
On This Road — A Quiet Journey Home
I walk, waded or waltzed this road,
With wise wish within, no weighty load.
Regrets regularly rouse my muse,
Leaving me low in lingering blues.
I roared or roamed this road of life,
Hesitant, I held and helped through strife.
When dangers danced or darkly dressed,
I grasped and grappled with the test.
For sixty silent, silken years I’ve strode,
Where many wandered, wept, or slowed.
Blew blessing bubbles toward the skies,
For gentler hearts and hopeful eyes.
I mourn the missed, mapped on my heart,
Loved ones who lingered, then did part.
A pure, precious, priceless child so mild,
He stayed but seasons, yet softly smiled.
If Time once tossed and ticking turned,
If lessons lived were fully learned,
This heart would hasten, beat and bend,
To right old wrongs and gently mend.
Oh, hollow hush of haunted air,
Soft-shadowed rooms still resting there.
Where laughter lingered, light once poured,
Now echoes ebb along its chord.
Yet still I walk this weathered road,
With wiser wish and lighter load.
And though regrets may rise unbidden,
Grace walks with me... ... home.
Copyright © 2026 Pat Fitzgerald
All Rights Reserved
Thank you for coming with me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. Life is a journey we all walk on. My journey in creating poetry is a journey of its own. Which I still learn much on as I write.
At times I experiment on techniques or ways to improve my poetry. Getting feedback is always most welcome for efforts like these.
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What a tender and deeply reflective piece.
The inspiration from The Older I Get by Alan Jackson is beautifully woven into your own life meditation. Your alliteration gives the poem a gentle musicality, and lines like “A pure, precious, priceless child so mild” carry profound emotional weight.
The closing movement “Grace walks with me… home.” is especially powerful. It feels settled, not sorrowful; reflective, yet at peace.
Thank you for sharing such an honest journey through memory, regret, and grace.
🌹 Auspicious Greetings 🌹
May this sacred festival of colors fill your life with joy, enthusiasm, and renewed energy.
May every color of Holi love, trust, courage, and peace illuminate your inner being.
With the burning of Holika, may all worries and obstacles be reduced to ashes, and may new hope and smiles arise in your life.
Wishing you and your family a very Happy Holi!
-Vijay Srivastava
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Thank you for your kind comment… It was meant to be a poem that shows meditation as in a walk as it were through memories of my own life. Also the closing line was indeed one of being at peace with my walk in life and in the knowledge of knowing that God was on my side. It was the hope of showing peace with this walk in life.
I also needed to show that a Poem could be found anywhere as I had encouraged readers in a previous post, that inspiration could be found anywhere and folks need only look for this with an open mind. finding inspiration from a song was a great experience and fun to work on. thank you also for the greeting / blessing..
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Loved this especially, the very last line!!! A great ending!!!Chuck :-)
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Thank you Chuck… This poem proves that Inspiration can come from anywhere.
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Ha! Lucky for us!!!!!
Chuck :-)
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Lovely, Thank you.
To Grace
GRACE
North, North
do not weep
look south the sun
an oasis of warm sand
under the feet.
The ocean tide has
pulled inward no more
in violence does it turn.
A hummingbird knows none
All humming falls South
under the sun
A summing growths
North into one
All winds howl to
the cold of the gone
All verse veil from
the old untold
In words find warmth
to behold
In words fire lines
to be told Iong letter
let lost – our heart
once Forgot – in and
no meaning caught
But melodies of
the never-thought
Poetry is submission
A cold copy called
An old memory of
beloved Truth be –
only loved – call
before and after beloved
fall
Like words must – all
meaning – Every and
all
As in two – one
word only exists – This –
Love – shall find
You.
GRACE
The cold wind of the North
has met the warmth of
the South. It seemed –
a storm would strike
the midnight sky.
Cold against warm
southern breeze.
The wind swirls
a layer of frost.
She shivered from
the cold touch.
Then the sun arose
and the light shined
into her thoughts.
North is none and
no more
It lost.
As Sea of loss
It lost- its shore.
The cold – waters –
me more. The cold waters – me
no more.
In me by me
In my by me
Mine in mine
All of it taken by
Time.
GRACE
She did call for
the season to turn.
The night has grown
cold and a fire needed
to keep her heart warm.
In search of warmth
the cold overshadowed
the night. The Night.
The cold was never cold.
The cold was never.
To freeze is to seek.
The South can only once more
The winds unworldly
weep of your tears
deep
In the eye of the storm
Met or ever born
Set as others side
To move is to reach
but feel Air unabide.
GRACE
Will the winter sun be long.
Will there be a fire
to warm my longing soul.
I will light the fire in hopes
of the light that warmth it
will bring. Will the cold touch
of winter be melted
from the touch of warm –
southern air?
The season was there
all a memory could hold.
A night of then – would
never set, As sun was
you – in you
met, May fire
may cold – from then
only love they told.
GRACE
Will the winter sun be long.
Will there be a fire to warm
my longing soul.
I will light the fire in
hopes of the light that
warmth it brings. Will the
cold touch of winter be
melted from the touch -of
warm southern air?
How dare!
How precious second loss!
What time at what cost –
what long of what longing –
what lost – was my –
Oh my loss!
It is here.
It is.
Now.
You love.
You live.
You give.
Hope is for when lost-
for when none is to
give! Love is for
Love. Not the breeze
for cold. Not the night
for old. No South sends
for sweet. It is your memory
to seek- Your eyes Open
must keep.
GRACE
North, do not fear
the light of the South
doesn’t turn dark and cold.
It stands to warm the night
to turn winter frost
into blossom each coming spring. Spring is promised,
it always faithfully arrives.
The warmth of its love
is much worth the wait.
I do not need warmth.
Give me – breeze and fire.
I see no North –
my eyes shall freeze.
I hear no South –
sung my heart must seize.
I am forsaken.
If that storm comes.
No motion will
stand emotion. No look will
withhold tears. No touch will
leave anything of me.
In that storm all will
be like all can be
and Joy will fight laughter
Bliss drowning in kiss
when Love – We paint
pain- time tears sent
bent rain arrows back
into rainbow
Each step never felt
As two as one
Into one all
Melt.
Your Friend
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Thank you for your beautiful words
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