Member-only story
Marked
By footprints.
Walking in the morning mist,
Streaming ‘Cross the Bay,
Sands of time that pre-exist,
Dreams that make my day.
Ancient and allegorical,
Marked by my footprints,
Often metaphorical,
In my thoughts, I rinse.
In the night the bright starlight,
Hovers in the sky,
Then at once to my delight,
I have a feeling I could fly.
And wing across the water,
Soar across the sea,
Doing what I ought to,
And feel completely free.
Falling through the atmosphere,
So, open I evince,
A space and place that is clear,
Where love has travelled since.
I meet the Queen of caution,
The King and there’s the prince,
A fulsome, awesome feeling,
Each was leaving their imprints.
Deigned and feigned for destiny,
Blown by the breeze,
Breathing in the pleasantry,
I am doing it with ease.
Inches turn to yards,
Then as yards turn into miles,
It seems twas written on the cards,
My face is wreathed in smiles.
©
David Rudder
2024
Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry.
