the grass is always

You started off so little

We all did

But you seemed, you seem, so green and fresh and

Green?

In that, you know (I know you) fresh kind of way, like fresh leaves that so quickly

Turn dark

But that’s what I love about you

And I do love you (love, you)

Because when you are in sticky, deep mud

And you can’t even see the grass that is always greener

No

You won’t be able to pull that foot out

Yes

You may need to call someone to the swamp

But you swirl that foot about

Side to side

By the time people reach right in

You’re half out

Sometimes you get yourself out

Completely

And walk over to them

Yes

With a little mud left on the shoe

But beaming

In at least, some form, so proud, to have

Pulled yourself out yet again.

So what I’m saying is, pretty green, you’ll come across so many swamps, but you will always be better off for it

The dirtied shoe will run on new pastures

And though it won’t be a prisTine green

They can be polished, and trust me (trust you) they’ll be able to look

And feel

Renewed, grown, mowed, fresh (fresh! Yet again!)

Even after the next swamp

And the one after that

And again

And sometimes, there’s even flowers

I don’t think the grass is always greener.

I think the grass will always be greener, soon, though.