Let’s stroll along Lingering Lane,*
Our
footsteps the sweetest refrain.
No
reason to hurry
For
stresses and worry
Are
never allowed, nor is pain.
The
birds are a’chirp in the trees.
There’s
always the gentlest breeze.
The
flowers are blooming,
Their
petals perfuming
The
air, but not causing a sneeze.
It’s
tempting to not want to leave
For
to linger helps one to believe
That
the paths that we choose
Will
our lifetimes suffuse
With
whatever we want to achieve.
*My
8-year-old grandson draws maps
for
a hobby and Lingering Lane was one
of
the streets on his latest map.
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