The Days move too swiftly To leap off and stand beside The Road chest heaving Watching them go And whatever I might Have known about them Slides off in the wind But when I count them Just to hear a voice They seem hollow And tenuous. I am Quite sure I made Them all up though I can't Remember doing it Or the trouble it must Have taken -- to wake Up every morning and make The twists, turns And uncertainties; Then lay them out on each Road I must have travelled.