The lights luminate for safeties sake, The gravel spilling over it’s walls.
Carefully making it to the dock on the lake, walk on me the lighted path calls.
The retaining wall with caps as white as snow, brighter than the path they glow.
The path marking which way to go, I get lost more than you know.
The baskets hang beautifully so, beside them birds on the feeders sit.
I take the path as far as I can go, The path not safe, not one bit.
The path leads to my slumbering place, where I desire to be.
I walk it with a bit of grace, the dock on the lake meant for me.