Saturday, 11 July 2009

SATURDAY 11th JULY 2009.

Several feet seem to have left
Their marks on me:
Shallow, deep, bird toed,
Young and old
And there,
Trailed off to the side,
The frail,
Whose tracks criss-cross
The rest as if beset with illness
Long before their end was met;
Melting back into the land they
Used to stand upon when strong.

But all these freckled influences
Fade eventually
Around the edges of this way,
This face of mine
That still juts
Into the bustle of the world,
And leave me
Free of imprint,
Shone of surface,
Smoothed of proof there
Ever was a foot to put before mine
And lead me into temptation.

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