By: Blonde Two

Remember how we walked,
Down the moss clad lane,
Under bronze beech branches
Hung with jewels of rain.

Remember how we found,
The chair of long, lost giants.
Remember the lads that stood
On its seat in glad defiance.

Remember that green lane,
The smell of rain fresh ground.
Your footsteps that I trod,
The laughter that we found.

All lanes have an end,
And a beginning too.
May I find many times
To tread green lanes with you.