SILENT  FOOTSTEPS

by Emily Mason





In sort of a grey day
somewhere between light and dark
she stops in the middle of her step to look
to see what's been left to her.
The trees rustle quietly in a breeze
that pulls cold, airy fingers across her hair
as she holds it dear within her hands...
a promise,
a reminder,
a memory of days gone by...
She feels the wind turning the world
its silent hands pulling the sunless ground about her...
she feels the grey days running by on silent footsteps,
and wonders where they're all going,
and wonders if they're all gone.





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