The Path

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by Danika Firth, age 14

It wound through the houses like a snake. 

You lived there as a child, young and bright. 

Funny and adventurous 

The rough cobblestone hard against your soft skin 

The sound of the pitter patter as rain falls on the stone 

The way it seems to go forever every time you walk down it. 

The groans of engines as the city removed the path. 

The grumble of machines as a new one was put in. 

The leaves fall on the new path. 

The snow marks it like white dots splattered everywhere. 

Your rubber boots squeak on it as you walk along it in the rain. 

But you still see how it winds around the houses like a snake. 

The rain still pitter patters on it in spring. 

It still seems like forever when you walk down it. 

And yet, the new path is not the same, it won't ever be. 

And yet we move on 

The rain falls 

The leaves mark it with splashes of colors 

The snow falls and you play on it 

And years later, it's your kids path, and one day it may be removed.


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