Down a winding trail I stood;
Looking back on the way I came.
A blue bird sang in suburbia.
A younger me walked in the rain.

What a free day that must have been,
Or is it simply my imagination?
We walked down the path together;
The road of our summer vacation.

The rain has dried; the dirt now cracked.
Easier to move on than look back.
Our path now gone, and terribly overgrown.
Still, we always know this was our home.