Prints

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

Reviews

[willweb]

I have always viewed my life as the people I have touched. Hoping that most were happy I did. Nicely stated my friend.

[Soren]

Thanks so much Will for the read and comment. Yes we are little more than the image we leave behind.

[AYVID N]

This poem firms up my conviction that we leave so much of us behind us. This is so true, literally and metaphorically. Our DNA is everywhere, in everything that we touch physically and spiritually we leave our imprints on everyone we connect with. These impressions are both fleeting and lasting in ways we cannot fathom so this poem is deep and profound in its reach and message. Beautifully written, dear Soren.

[Soren]

Think you so much DIVYA for the review and insightful interpretation.

[AYVID N]

You are welcome, dear Soren.

[JD Major]

"Where ever I have touched
I have left a part of me" ...Beautiful lines, beautiful write, an inspired thought :)
JD

[Soren]

Thanks JD for the read and the comment. I appreciate it.

[Chris Shaw]

On our journey passing through, we may leave many footprints of one kind or another. They are all temporary because eventually we will be gone with no trace. Such is life. A thought provoking little write Soren. Thank you.

Chris

[Soren]

Thank you Chris for the review and most kind words they are deeply appreciated.

[John the Baptist]

Inevitably, we move on toward the last door. All that remains of us in this life lies in the memories of others.

[Soren]

Thanks John, I appreciate the review and comment