Crossing the Signs

In an out of the way place, not on the map
the resort thoughfully gave out when I checked in,
just behind our cabin was a sign, hand painted.
“Not Safe!” with about six bright red exclamation marks,
so of course, that first night, I walked the path
into the maze of twisted trees and swamp land.
It’s what I do, too often. and worse,
I took my kids with me, seven and twelve.
I am afraid I ruined them.
To this day they poke their cameras
in places they do not belong.

My ex-wife always said I would ruin them,
but I do not think this is what she had in mind.
Me? It’s exactly what I had In mind.
Success comes in unexpected ways,
often, crossing the signs.

About this poem

A true story that popped in my head whilst eating lunch today and left me smiling.

The picture was taken in that bit of forbidden swamp land in Cornwall!

Tom