Does it mean anything?
Doesn't it deserve some recognition,
As reliable and supporting?
It's often stepped on, and never viewed,
Forgotten and discarded,
Yet the places it can take you,
Are often the highlight of your heart,
It's always there, just waiting,
Never complaining, like a doting adorer,
Patient, in case you want to go back,
And see the sights of another shore.
And it don't mind,
If you never say its name,
Though, you might find, if you took the time,
That it's beyond blame.
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