The Faith Poet: The Path

Four bare feet part the withering grass

Pulling weeds with their toes during every pass

The same four feet carry on to the end

Down a path left unkept, through the weeds we shall wend

At the end of the path stands a fence and a road

The end of a journey these markers do bode

With the end of one scene a new one we'll roam

As we make our way down the road that leads home

I'll return here one day, I'll come back you will see

I will share every drop of this great memory

I'll preserve and protect it, I will hold it so close

To share it with those that will enjoy it the most

Some years have gone since those four feet did stride

Down the withering path of the grass brown and dry

I thank God for the times and the thoughts left engraved

In my heart and my mind of the path that we made

I have travelled this path many times the same way

In fact, its the same way I take to this day

Not for beauty or ease or the simple terrain

But from losing this memory I do wish to refrain

It's different this time and years since that day

That we parted the grass as we made our own way

But different is good and now it is great

We now part the grass with not four, but with eight

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