Thick, sturdy boots
- too big for me -
moulded into fearless troops,
accustomed to mud, forest, scrambles,
(to seeking)
trudge onward,
through the persistent snow
- ever frosty, ever untelling, ever before us -
onward,
leaving their prints for only keen observers
- but whose impressions do they leave;
mine, or theirs?
Or is that the same thing?
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.05 seconds at 6:22am on Nov 16, 2024 via server WEBX1.