of hard packed dirt.
A mother, a father, a little red wagon
pulling their children in their wake.
A grandmother, a grandson, an adventure
comparing treasures picked from the road.
A jog in the morning, a walk in the afternoon, a stroll at night,
5 deer, 2 rabbits, and a turtle, maybe a skunk.
A boyfriend, a girlfriend, and a long distance call,
pacing back and fourth arguing alone.
A midnight expedition with the whole crew and all,
"Shooting stars, U.F.O.'s, wolves, and a bear?"
She was an old dirt road,
old cabins lined her, that hadn't aged well,
others received face-lifts over the years.
Apple trees old and twisted,
now-a-days lacking apples, yet their beauty remains.
Views of the lake, as the setting sun paints it,
yards for grazing, where the wild life play.
Rotting apples and piles of poop,
reasons to watch your feet as a car passes by.
Shirts ringing wet from the pouring rain,
we still walked, muddy shoes and all.
Sweat rolled down our face from the sweltering heat,
we still walked, panting and dragging hind dog.
She's touched my sole, as well as others,
My grandparents, parents and brother as well,
Aunt's, Uncles, and cousins a like,
neighbors, friends, and of course girlfriends too.
Don't forget the dogs, who marked her their own.
Shes gone now, that old dirt road of ours.
You can bury our old girl,
but you can't pave over our memories,
It may not be the road less taken,
but it's the road we chose.