A tiny footprint, in cement,
A finger smudge, on my glasses,
A mark of time, gone by
I reach for a cloth, to wipe it off
The foot now grown
Has moved on
You'll remember me,
In the scent of broken ground
You'll see me,
In the sprouting of seeds
You'll feel me,
In your stomach now filled
Where ever I have touched
I have left a part of me,
Footprints,
Some wiped away,
Some in broken ground,
Others in cement
-
Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: February 1st, 2023 04:48
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: arqios, L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments4
Beautiful both in sentiment and articulation! Good one Soren!
Thank you Cryptic, this one was just floating inside me somewhere and had to come out.
To remind me of my DNA spread everywhere is salutary, Soren - I AM part of the universe. A piece which provoked thought in me.....
Thanks Dave don't mean to provoke but sometimes I do. Thanks for the read and comment.
Beautifully worded...you've cemented your ideas very well 🥰
Thank you, for your kind words and review.
When reading your brilliant words
I couldn't help but be reminded
of Walt Whitman's poignant words:
'I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.'
(from Song of myself, 52
https://poets.org/poem/song-myself-52
)
Just amazing
how favourably, your poetry
compares
to the work
of one of the greatest Poet's
dear Poet
just a privilege to read, thank you!
Dear L.B. you humble me beyond belief, to be compared to Whitman is a great compliment which I as a mere whittler of words feel I do not deserve but is so greatly appreciated. Your kind and generous words are greatly appreciated.
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