We're not even going to talk
about where the first night went
Nor the morning after
Suffice to say, our plans pushed back
Midday is when we began to make strides
By a creek, down a trail, up a wall
Up a hill, by a rock, in a car
Through the Garden of the Gods
We drove past the places of our past
Coming out into Manitou
The town of our youth
Then driving downtown
The streets of our passion
And finally a rest,
Youth not being ours
But belonging to the past,
Like this town, and our place in it
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