The Other Side


Two men crossed paths in a pub one night

Both worn from their wandering ways

They spoke nostalgically to one another

Swapping stories of the old glory days

With every drunken laugh and nod of the head

They slammed their cups down for more

Ale frothed over the top again and again

Until the bartender had no more left to pour

The two stumbled outside into the night

Blinking up at the hazy moon

For a moment, they stood, trying to regain their senses

That warm, cloudy night in June

One peered down the path on his right

An open, weathered and worn out road

The other looked to the left

Deep in the woods where few have ever strode

His fellow drunk followed his eyes

Into the blackness between the trees

“I been there,” he suddenly croaked

Then coughed and began to wheeze

The second man turned to the first

With a drunken, questioning look

The first man took a swaying step

Then pointed with a finger that shook

“I been down that path before

Even though I tried

I accidentally traveled down

To the Other Side.

It was dark and dirty

A place no man should go

Take my advice, old chap

And don’t go down that road.”

With those slurred words he tipped his hat

Then staggered down the way

His feet hit the beaten, clean path

Straight on, they did not stray

The second man watched with bleary eyes

Then, he turned and walked into the woods

Feeling empty and drained of pride

He felt he had no more to offer here

So he crossed in to The Other Side


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