My ten toes down.
But I walk as though
The very ground
Upon which the sky stands
Cannot touch me.
I sit, stand, walk, run...
Eyes forward And
Too aware of what's behind.
The past for now not fleeting.
Breathing down my blindside
When I reminisce
Should I revisit
Your memory.

I look to the hills
The horizon over which
My past is withered away
And forgotten