Sep 29
Pure was the snow
now muddied-
by the ***** boots
of travelers
who never settle.
Roaming from town to town
sullying snowfalls everywhere.
Why, oh traveler
do you step onto the snow
and create an eternal imprint,
only to walk away?
now muddied-
by the ***** boots
of travelers
who never settle.
Roaming from town to town
sullying snowfalls everywhere.
Why, oh traveler
do you step onto the snow
and create an eternal imprint,
only to walk away?
I would love to read about how different people interpret this poem. For me, this poem is about something that you lose and cannot get back
