Foreign are the footprints on a road long ago tread
A memory of what once was, an ode to those now dead
Buried under the leaves laid down by surrounding maple trees
A blanket that has nary piece disturbed

These multicolored maples have seen and whispered so
Of many a wearer traveler who chose this quiet road
But long ago was this and time has laid the cards
With feet and body laid to rest, never to walk

And so the silence takes the land in an eternal embrace
As raining leaves float softly on, failing to leave a trace
None to stand to revel in the beautiful tapestry
The footprints buried with those who molded them