Every day I walk the same grass,

  lit by gold, silver, or brass.

  Head down, walking fast,

  I always ask: “How long can this field last?

  For a moment and eternity I zone out,

  forever and a day in distraction’s great snout.

  Eyes on the ground,

  watching feet pound,

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Father Time acting the lazy lout.

  Over time the sights become plain,

  all the same colors, green the main.

  Lost in visions of hillside mortar,

  my body the mind’s mere porter.

  Each patch the same,

  verdant continually,

  more or less tame,

  growing perennially.

  Then I reach brick,

  surprise,

  makes my head rise,

  at tedium’s trick.

  Home, home at last,

  a long walk made so fast,

  a year for every second passed.

  Only sameness to lambast.

  I failed to see,

  how far each step took me.

  With goal set yet not in sight,

  to arrive was quite a fright.

  I learned the truth then,

  a lesson of my kin;

  Head up, shoulders back,

  you’re on the right track.

  Eyes up, not below,

  each step a step towards your ultimate goal.

  Walk steady, walk slow,

  walk around every obstacle and hole.

  Hold fast,

  this field cannot last.

  Conviction of brass,

  is stronger than grass.