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
Copyright © 2011 Ryan Bitters
