By Grace M. Candland
The road of yesterday is closed for me;
Time’s stern decree has barred and locked the gate.
I must move on, but can it be too late
To look far down that beaten track and see
Where I have failed, just how I lost my chance
To step on higher ground where pine trees grow,
And why I trailed the sagebrush down below
And scorned an invitation to advance?
Today, I’ll route my path upon a grade
That lifts and winds along the mountainside
Where I can see new heights both far and wide
And estimate the progress I have made.
I hold my destiny within my hands
And life will give me what my heart demands.