FOOTPRINTS

While wandering on the shore
I come across the scattered shells
Brought by the waves at high tide
And left there to be trampled upon.

Then I notice many footprints
On the wet sand along the shore,
Large and small,deep and faint,
Going in various directions.

I wonder about their owners,
Who might be they? In what mood?
Whether joyous, laughing in glee,
Or listless just like me?

Some might be calm and contempletive,
Some might be pensive, speculative,
Some with loved ones, some all alone,
Someone suppressing a silent moan....

Amusedly I look back to see
What my footprints tell about me?
Just then I see a great wave coming,
It seems to warn me with its roaring,
'Footprints are fickle,they'll certainly go,
But you are meant to be with the flow.'

 -Portia Burton