Footsteps
pad against the wilted cobblestone,
in dust and bone.
Crunch through the forest,
where twigs and brush see no rest.
Footsteps
slide in the sand,
and give way to unstable slopes.
Disappear in the water,
and fragments of rock.
Scuff the mall floor,
and kick the door shut.
Footsteps
guide you home through the bramble and dusk,
when the stars shine bright through the summer musk.
Left or right,
a path is never straight.
There is heartbreak
and sadness
in liaison with power and happiness.
If a mistake is made, you turn around,
never forgetting the lesson you hold.
The ones that make you bold,
and give you the confidence to say
"That pathway wasn't for me,
so my footsteps will lead the other way."
