They disappear more quickly in the
colder, barren climes
Where snow falls steadily and
covers them:
Two sets of footprints, yours and mine.
The snow blends, flake by drifting flake,
to cover them
And forms a pristine blanket, uncaring
where it falls and totally
Without discrimination.
Yesterday’s snow, and all the indentations
which we made, together
In our lives, are gone,
with ne’er a trace that they were ever there.
The winding path – the one we trod –
is but a memory;
A fleeting recollection of a happy time,
but gone, to whence such memories go.
And now, that is its all – a memory –
and no-one cares whose memory, or why,
For that was yesterday.
But now it is another day, which brings
a new, fresh, pristine path, which all
Of us can choose to take; our chance to make
new footprints in the snow.
The choice is ours to write the text
of our new lives on Nature’s
Clean white overlay, or, if we will,
withdraw, to dwell instead upon the loss
Of footprints made on other days; made
yesterday - and gone.
It matters not:
Too soon the sun – God’s fiery orb –
will deem ‘Enough! ’ It will be over.
And all the little secrets of our winter lives
will join the raging torrent as
It rushes headlong down the gorge
to join the summer sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem