Cement to gravel: the path melts away.
Not swiftly,
not like the fleeting blur of synthetic
in a 100 m dash,
more like that of someone fishing,
leisurely reeling in the ground.

Even so,
the green lining the path
unwavering.
Myriad shades,
but feelings conveyed the same.
Soothing, grounded.

Wind scattered twigs and leaves,
abstractly intricate patterns forgotten,
upon entering a dappled serenity.
Creation of the last crimson rays
that weaved its way
through the sudden 'canopy'

Evanescent reprieve.
The same warm rays
now a harsh glint
reflecting of a distant pane,
forcing fragile irises
to seek refuge.

And just as quickly,
cement gives way to gravel.
Just as the pinkish hues
colouring the sky
dissolves into velvet darkness,
without pomp and fanfare.