the grass has grown green

and the rain has come strong,

during this honeysuckle summer,

in a place that I don’t belong.

I’m starting all over and

I’m beginning again.

I just kind of wish

that I still had a friend.

burning these bridges

meant finding my home;

a new path to follow,

a new place to roam.

where I’m at, I wake up now,

to the sun in the window.

I await the winter snow, but for now,

I have the shade of the weeping willow.

the grass is growing brown

and someday it will be gone, but for now,

during this honeysuckle summer,

I’ve figured out where I belong.