Venturing, through the corridors of thrill and bliss; in this: a joy to light my face, and yours, for tomorrow, we dismiss. Too far to go through the village; but close; to the swan on lane. Past flashing dreams across the stage, and hope to the last of pain. Indeed, those days were true, a joy to light my face, and yours, I still, think about you; venturing, through the corridors.
By Emmanuel Johnson