Friday, February 1, 2013

"The Path"

 were  the Romantic.
I  was  just  being  Practical, Remember?
It  was,  in  Fact,  the  shortest,  most  Direct  Line
from  the  Bridge  where  we'd  Meet
to  that  big  olde  Oak  I  Loved.
I  still  Recall  how  Handsome  you  looked,
Running  ahead,
Laughing  back   Over  your  Shoulder.
Even  then  you Called  me an  olde Slow  Poke,
Remember  how I  Wept,
when  my  Oak  came  Down  for  the  new  Highway?
Then  the  Creek  that  ran  Under  the  Bridge
ran   Dry.
I  suppose  it  had  NReason  to  go on  Anymore,
NWhere  to  go.
But  the  Path  we  Made  Goes  on.
Remember  when  it  was  all  Untouched  Meadow?
WMade  it  a  Path,  you  and  I.
Once  it  was  all  Ours,
and  that  Meant  Something.


1 February, 2013 


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