With my wings outstretched,
I swooped over the sand,
As my feet pitter-pattered,
Drawing foot prints across the sand.
I then swooped down to,
Make more footprints across the sand.
This time not recognizing what had gone wrong.
Who's others footprints had come along.
I gazed and gazed till confusion set in.
Whose footsteps they could've been.
But they were footsteps of another day.
They were my very own, the beach did say.
But I did not remember that frolicksome day.
When I had made my own footsteps in the sand,
Running and swooping over it, under the sun's rays,
Comments about this poem (Who's Tracks by Vera Sidhwa )
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