Tracing Footsteps

Things can disappear,
Wine stains on your silk white dress
And things that can get lost,
Napkins with love phrases written
During one late dinner.

You are tracing your footsteps
On the beach with memory of your lost earrings
You try to separate wind from light,
Reflections of sand and seashells
And memory of revelry from night before.

You think of the day’s majesty
The waves washing your feet
White foam loitering between your toes
Mountains communing with the ocean
Birds drawing the art of space between.

There are small variations in ambition and anonymity
Acquiantance between dawn and spectators
Life is fragile, don’t hold it too tightly
Voices of May and vibrant landscape are coming
As if the loveliest flowers are blooming for you.


5 thoughts on “Tracing Footsteps

  1. I really like this poem….about so many ephemeral and beautiful things that I wish I could hold on to. (Well, maybe I don’t care so much about the earrings.) It brings to mind a particular day or week of my own life, one of the millions that have disappeared — but no, I don’t think they have. I’m waiting for them to be gathered up somehow, the good with the bad, made into a whole. Maybe like a bouquet made of spent flowers and weeds, that becomes fine flower-arranging art and blooms again as if for the first time.

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