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Poetic T Mar 2020
You said I was the only step,
       but you always took one


back..

Never walking us forward,
   excuses, like I had to tie my laces,
         or my feet ache you walk on.

But I never looked back,
and you never moved forward.

We were a distance apart but I'd only
                  took one more step than
you.

But one can equal more when its
not synchronized with your heart.

The next day, you had walked off,
  we weren't even walking in the same
                                              postcode...

I took of the shoes I wore when we walked,
                and now I'm bare foot.


But you know what I'm walking further without


you.

My perception isn't clouded by your backward
        footing.

I'm free to walk without the pleasure
           of having to look backwards..

Just walking onward  without pausing to see
                           who cares how far my footsteps

have wondered,.

I'm strolling at my own pace
                                  passing with no goodbyes.
Tran Thuy Anh Mar 2020
footsteps echo
through the high ceilings
of stony chambers
in my mind
their rhythmic paces
like a metronome
in perpetual motion
anticipating
impatiently
a revelation

but the cacophony
of thoughts settle
into dust
and the flames
inside my chest
subside
before
the realization
that nothing is new
in this life
Timothy Dec 2019
if we can't find poetry in footsteps
where will we find it
Poetic T Oct 2019
I'll never walk in your footsteps.
                         because you walked

that path and it was personal to you.

I may shadow you, as I take wonderment
          in the delicate breath of each moment

you trod upon the soil.

Showing that for some, we will never tread
               upon others imprints.

But we will not look above, but always
                     below to see that some paths
are worth following,
      stepping side by side to others life.

Make a path anew, follow the footsteps
                of others you look down too.

But every path is unique, no path trodden
                   is ever the same in life.
Quinn Adaire Aug 2019
Pit-pat, pit-pat
Shoes slapping on the floor.
Pit-pat, pit-pat
A quiet knock at your door.
Pit-pat, pit-pat
Raindrops, water pure.
JT Nelson Jun 2019
Cool cool floor
Of smooth hard tile
Barefeet slapping in
Successive taps

Step
       Step
               Step
                       Step

Then onto carpet

Silence.
Just observing the almost silent moments of someone stepping across a tile floor and then onto the carpet. Mostly mundane... definitely not something ever thought of as magical, this is something going on all over all the time. Sometimes things like that blow my mind.
Poetic T Jun 2019
Woeful of the memories,
              was I to blame!

Could I have changed that moment?


When he walked out of our timeline.

Altered futures of what would have been
                 happy moments.

   But he was vacant like a parked car paying
                         for a spot never ever filled.
Still we waited on the clock before the pennies
                           ran out and then...
  

Tickets of denial, that he was there for us..
    he threw pennies at the lap of our mother.

She cried inside ever strong...

We were young of innocence, thinking he was
      there for us. But she was the guild that
                   caressed every fall,
                          every awkward question.

Denial was a strong venture for boys,
     that  thought the sun shone brightly.

In reality it was like the northern hemisphere
                   frozen for a time then thawed.

In reality, there was an absence of reconciliation.
        daydreaming of perfection.  
                                                   ­  never realising...
That one took the personification of both.
             And we gazed upon her as a not worthy.


But she brought us up in the wordless motion,
         of abandonment, not wanting us to see the reality..


That our Dad was as worthless as the pennies he
         threw in discord,
                                                 thinking that the copper
stepping stones were of worth to feed  and put cloth on us.


She was the one that played the part of both.
      gone is her words of wisdom..

But still her learning lives on..


                   We love you mother & Dad..


But realistically   she was both, and when she passed..

          She wasn't  a loss of a singular person but
                   one that filled the footsteps of both..



Mum we miss you... every one that wasn't filled
      not one footstep,
                           but one that filled both.
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