I sit on softened stone
and look at grass bent below,
where my feet were once; firmly planted.
I sit on the sweat of men and
softened stone and years gone by;
too many to recall,
as I go back to the grass,
where my feet, bared, bent it back.
I sit, on the sweat of men
my feet sway on either side
of a softened stone wall
separates your house from mine;
divides, your trees from my trees.
over time, they have intertwined,
(the boughs and branches),
making one canopy to sit under.
And this is where I stay,
(upon softened stone and the sweat of men),
while I contemplate my swinging feet
that once stood firmly on bent green grass.