The path I walk is a muddy one,
Far from the congested highway,
Without green signs and the flashing lights,
It’s charm lies within its few stones.
The stones most common yet seldom seen
By drivers of flashy, fast cars,
Have tales to tell of the days of yore
When girls upon horses kissed boys.
The mysterious lack of its stones,
A clue to a change in ways,
A whisper caught by the naked eye,
Confirms that men love their high speeds.
”Muddy paths are not always unbearable to walk.”