</>I walk to the store
It is the dead of winter
And my soft footfalls
make patterns
in the snow
Chunks of crystal float in the air
that is dark and swirling
Godbless
Your poetry also makes footprints in us, good poem, simple is best, I say no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
search the footprints and you will see, that the patterns are made for you and me. look upon a rug, or the tile on the floor, and you will see GODS gift forever more. another gr8t write