Down an old path deep in the woods, is a place that I loved to be,
Nestled deep under the pines ,where the birds sing a sweet melody.
An old cabin sits just like it did ,as I remembered it in my mind,
I used to play under the trees, while on the porch you would find.
My grandma sitting shelling peas and grandpa smoking his pipe,
I still can picture them in my mind ,oh want a wonderful site.

Oh how I loved that old path, that led to my grandparents  home,
I always felt so at peace, and now I feel so alone.
My grandparents are gone and the house now stands empty and still,
But I always loved that old cabin and I guess I always will.
In my dreams I still walk down that old path, and play under the trees,
And I still can hear the birds singing to me, a sweet melody.

Oh how those's memories linger ,even now that I am grown,
Of that cabin deep in the woods, my grand parent's Carolina home.
Every summer I would visit and I never wanted to leave.
It was a magical place, at least that's what I  believed.
 At least I have my memories ,until they fade away,
Of the that old path in the woods and those good old summer days.

by Gloria Collins

                                  Photo came from the Big Stock Photo Site