Canterbury Lane

You squint into the light that pierces through the green foliage
Tinting everything flowery emerald
It blares at you so intensely your eyes sting
You don’t pay much attention to that though
You continue down the path in high spirits
Down Canterbury Lane
The crisp morning air brushes against your back like an old friend
You trudge through the sand covering the forest floor

It sticks in every crevice you don’t want it to
Your thread bare socks
Your hair
Your sky blue polo
And especially your shoes
You’re going to need to clean out your Chuck-T’s later

A sea of blue shirts before you
A sea of blue shirts surrounding behind
All belonging to campers
Bright young minds with a passion
A dream

It drives lively spirits to sing a ballad
Or paint the worlds next masterpiece
Maybe even to write a symphony that moves the hearts of all who hear
To become one of the greats

Or maybe, some don’t want to be like any of the greats
Some of those young dreamers want to forge their own great
They want the next generation to walk down Canterbury Lane aspiring to be like them
To follow in their footsteps that have long since been blown away

Maybe some past dreamer’s sand now resides in my dusty pair of Chuck-T’s

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