Prints Poem by soren Barrett

A tiny footprint, in cement,
A finger smudge, on my glasses,
A mark of time, gone by
I reach for a cloth, to wipe it off
The foot now grown
Has moved on

You'll remember me,
In the scent of broken ground
You'll see me,
In the sprouting of seeds
You'll feel me,
In your stomach now filled

Where ever I have touched
I have left a part of me,
Footprints,
Some wiped away,
Some in broken ground,
Others in cement