They say the grass is much greener on the other side.
Many have crossed that bridge and forfeited their pride.
Leaving someone or something behind.
Eyes wandering back to what they once had.
Ever searching for something more and never glad.
Though you don't know until you cross that bridge.
And your eyes see the next horizon over that ridge.
If it was worth leaving what you left behind.
Will the grass have the same sweet scent?
Is it worth leaving what you had, is what I seek to lament?
As we walk on the grass on the new horizon
Do we have our eyes on our goals?
or is it we just seek what we are told.
That the grass is greener on the other side.
Or when we arrive do, we find that this lawn is grown from those who cried.
Remembering the something or someone they left behind.