Footprints leaving imprinted tracks
by David Taylor
on sidewalks' destined paths
some times resplendent with fragrant blossom trees
and too many times, if times I were to count
in the shadow of deep dark alleys
on three sides dry walls, capped with chimney stacks
billowing smoke of burnt up hope
the only opening left behind, I won't turn back...
And as memory recalls they are still there
my footprints pacing, turning
in the grip of fear.
Then in times more fair
as walking in soothing sunlit forest groves
with shafts of light beaming past my sight
my footprints following without much care
the natural paths that nature chose
and walked with senses filled
with music of the larks
that soar above towards the light
walking along those natural paths
with sweet scented wind blowing through my hair
my footprints, they are still there.
In winters depths of pure drifts of snow
when with hat and coat I go
and make my footprints as if on virgin ground
that newly made, none had before me found
I like those footprints best,
that, as they warm in gentle sun,
slowly melt and soon are gone
but in my mind I still recall
and those footprints linger on.
There are more places I have gone
When for a time we walked as one
and You made me light as air
with Your presence everywhere
and I cannot recall nor find
any footprints left behind.