I follow one trail, another, <br />Ending sharply <br />In these woods. <br />Crunching last Fall's <br /> <br />Leaves under bare feet. <br />Blackberry stickers, <br />Thorned, ivy webs. <br />No passage. No trail. <br /> <br />Under woods-cool canopies... <br />Knowing I must turn <br />Back. Run through rain <br />Bending leaves, grasses. <br /> <br />Then, I must make the trail. <br />I wish to know the end <br />Of a path begun years ago... <br />To hear my Father speak to me.<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/father-s-footprints/
