Inside:
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The path beckons me,
come lay your feet on my coolness
and wander down the narrow passage,
even if it is only a memory.
The path beckons me,
place your feet one in front of the other,
step carefully for now my narrow passageways
have become narrower still,
the rambling brush has covered me,
for you are not here to keep it at bay.
The path beckons me,
run, meet your friends along the lake,
but I tell myself the friends are there no more,
they have long moved on,
like mine, their feet no longer fill the path,
their laughter no longer lingers through the trees.
The path beckons me,
to return to those lazy days of summer,
to the cabins by the lake,
to the wind in my face,
the carpet of bracken fern,
but you can never really return to those days,
for they are gone with the path that beckons me.
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