The Feet's Tale

Poetic say on the ephemeral nature of humans.

My Feet's Tale

Walking down the sandy lane,

trailing behind was my two feet's print,

carving its path on the golden sand beach,

treading the path, which I had wished to take.

It was not that artistic as I wished,

maybe a little deep to taunt my obesity,

and a bit wavered to speak of my wavering mind,

but it was something charming to me what I had left behind,

A proud feeling you get like when some retinue follows you behind,

Long after when the sun was about to set,

and then waves took a plunge to gnaw what,

in gilded sand and with thoughts, I had left ashore,

nothing remained, but the moon, the sand, and the gnashing waves.

Author's Note

Have your say on my above writing.

Reviews

[Michael G.]

There are many who would say our time here is merely a spec of sand. What we do with it is how we are remembered.
This speaks to me like the poet and why he writes. What he leaves behind him should be important to him. But like all things, this too shall pass.
Keep writing.