Along Youth's Lane
On our ancestral road of graceful peace
The mist of long-lost summers seems to crest,
Adorning ferns with a beauty of their own
While mellow nightfall glints without request.
On curving ramps where garlands twirl at ease
To softly swell like a bird’s heaving breast
And unknowingly, time forgets to count
The rituals of asphalt memories.
Along hued leaves rustling in a parade
That glimmer through the branches of elm trees,
As if some painting an old artist made
From visions of kinship, the same road flows.
And curling from the lane, a deep red rose
Blooms like my youth which never means to fade.
Kelly Deschler's Just Down The Road
by nette onclaud
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