The pavement lies along the road.
Amongst the swift passing traffic,
It remains untrodden except the bird.
A foot steps onto the tarmacked mess;
A sigh of relief from both parties emerge:
Soon the step is gone with the day.
She sits again awaiting her prize.
Alas she is relieved of her burden;
A motorway is drawn across the rolling hills.
But what will become of the lonely road?

Grit on grit will build anew.
Upon the grit, metal would flow.
Now the pavement lays no more,
Peacefully the traffic rushes along.