Summary: A fictional wrong turn becomes a moment of curiosity: an irritated walker notices a blossom, takes a slower route, and returns home less hurried. No private event or autobiographical experience is asserted.

I missed the turn beside the corner store,
And grumbled at a road I'd walked before.
Then through a fence, a crooked apple tree
Let one late blossom lean and wave at me.

I'll take the long way round,
Let my hurried feet slow down.
Not every bend can bring you something new,
But I can spare a minute for the view.

I put the map away beside the square,
And watched the branches stirring in the air.
I got back home and laid my jacket down;
The clock still ticked; I did not race its sound.

I'll take the long way round,
Let my hurried feet slow down.
Not every bend can bring you something new,
But I can spare a minute for the view.