Forgotten Few

To walk the path of a forgotten few;
The heart, the eyes, and head so true.

The path along the jagged edge
Allows none to cross--
Put out on a ledge.

The grass grows silver and dreams turn dead;
One cannot see the color of red.

The sky is gold yet one cannot see,
The stories that were never told to you or me.

The drooping leaves fall into view;
When you walk the path of the forgotten few.