I walk along the path of you and me
And find what once we carved'n mahogany
So small and deep that only I can see
What's ours among the lies an'disloyalty.
The tree he stands, weathered, washed up, and strong;
A testament to love so young n'impure -
Each dent is proof of lust declared for long
By youth enamored far err they grow, mature.
Ours too, is there, cut deep into the bark.
The 'L . plus J.' hidden among the many,
whose hopeless love required assurance - that mark
to keep their ferv'r from fall to worth a-penny
       But hark, my dear, I hope our mark does fade
       For ours, in heart, trumps any a-tree has made.