Among all final goodbyes,

The walk home is the final wave,

Stepping off the dusty bus,

Starting soon, I’ll always behave:

For the run-down path returned right here.

The sun whisked the sky away,

Begging me to stay one more time.

“Let’s go back—and nothing less!”

My mind turned on a dime:

For the run-down path was halfway done.

Fly across fields, what does it matter?

As long as I advance, all is well.

The sun salutes, we part as partners,

It knows to time I run parallel:

For the run-down path has prepared me.