Footprints leaving imprinted tracks <br />on sidewalks' destined paths <br />some times resplendent with fragrant blossom trees <br />and too many times, if times I were to count <br />in the shadow of deep dark alleys <br />on three sides dry walls, capped with chimney stacks <br />billowing smoke of burnt up hope <br />the only opening left behind, I won't turn back... <br />And as memory recalls they are still there <br />my footprints pacing, turning <br />in the grip of fear. <br /> <br />Then in times more fair <br />as walking in soothing sunlit forest groves <br />with shafts of light beaming past my sight <br />my footprints following without much care <br />the natural paths that nature chose <br />and walked with senses filled <br />with music of the larks <br />that soar above towards the light <br />walking along those natural paths <br />with sweet scented wind blowing through my hair <br />my footprints, they are still there. <br /> <br />In winters depths of pure drifts of snow <br />when with hat and coat I go <br />and make my footprints as if on virgin ground <br />that newly made, none had before me found <br />I like those footprints best, <br />that, as they warm in gentle sun, <br />slowly melt and soon are gone <br />but in my mind I still recall <br />and those footprints linger on. <br /> <br />There are more places I have gone <br />When for a time we walked as one <br />and You made me light as air <br />with Your presence everywhere <br />and I cannot recall nor find <br />any footprints left behind.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/footprints-20/
