The path was worn from traffic seen,
From accommodating those with need to tread.
Upon it's borders, lay thick padded leaves,
Spilling to the path, leaving it, as soft bread.
Bare feet used this path, unannounced,
As a turkey trots, never at a slow gait.
Little ones never allowed enough time,
And would yell to mother, hurry, I can't wait.
A house, It's...
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