Left Behind And Sidestepped Poem by Mark Heathcote

Trees like dances.
Skirts held overhead.
Trunks like thighs,
The moon like the eye
Of a needle-looking
For an invisible lost thread.

Leaves shaken from a salt shaker,
Red and gold.
A river overflowing
However far it is, they travel
It leads you back.
To where you aren't right now.

Back to the fold
A prodigal son
Who hasn't far to go
One who never really
Took a single step away.
And if you look behind

You'll find he was never the step
You thought he was ahead.
But he was always in the footsteps
The footsteps inside the one you,
You -yourself left behind and sidestepped.