“A way of life,

like the air we breathe, the old roads,

the dirt beneath our feet.

Times passes, what we carry on, well worn, no regrets.

Gone and yet we revisit, our best broke boots.

The sweet smell of Apricot Brandy and whiskey in our flasks,

the stories to tell, those that came before,

encounters remembered, our history retold.

We’ll always meet there to enjoy again,

that place on the path.”       

                                                                           sc.


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