As I plod along at a placid place
I ask myself most often if
My mind will ever approach that place?

If I’ll I ever be able to move along
Down that path
Be it into the summer or out of May?

“Your brightest days are yet to pass!”
Or so they say, with each differing dawn
And yet I am still unsure of such path, nowadays

Be it winding or not
How they stretch out before me, and bend at a distance
Turning just around the cornery edge
To entice my mind to stray away

How I’d often jump from rock to rock
Devoid of fear, in my younger days
How I'd fly through the air without forethought
That is until I became aware of this present day

Though still I must, and will I trust in my ginormous feet
For it is time I value, and the steadiness which is found outside
That is, I'm seemingly less capable of turning off my mind

For I am afraid of not being able to see
And witness all the beauty which is stored away
Within such paths

For its there and within that which I expect to find
This path of mine

As a memory to create down each pasture lane
Must be simply folly and waste
To ponder such things with every day
This is what I see

When the decision stretches out before me
Not far away
Like a field of green

Whereas so many others are thus condemned to a barren wasteland
Simply put
Her lushness is just one of the things
That will make me stay