39 Feet Below

39 feet below The streets so littered with leaves, Those first responders to a fall Not soon to be forgotten, They are crushed beneath our soles. The brave and fearless ones Who began as buds so fresh, so lush and green, They are the first to go. Not afraid to blaze That first and fateful path to the ground Before blazing has even begun 39 feet below all of this sad beginning of an impending winter, Is a tunnel Where your soles once smacked the ground. A ground alight with pathways For voices long forgotten. A ground displaced by concrete Packed by nervous hungry hands. Our rubber soles have landed there To seek a better path. To carry forward voices soft and strong. Words of help and hurt, small thoughts and big ideas, Both hopeful and crushed Into the next season of communication. On the day that you left I tunneled my way straight down through the congested earth To a tunnel packed and hollow, On a path so straight and true. A path laid out by you That I'm not afraid to follow