I tread the paths we dreamt together
slowly, like each step gives me the need to live
for just one step, so I can die on the next
on my way towards the ghost of Past.
I trudged ahead since last snowfall
when houses gave way, and the cold wave
affected words and song.
But the beauty, oh the beauty of it
was that the path was so long.
I could walk till my feet went numb
with yellow rotting trees abandoned
in that desolate, white glory.
Why was it that every time I politely
and hesitatingly refused company
it seemed to put me back a step
or take them one step further?
With the misty breath of my mouth
heading the way, I could see a haze clear away
and feet followed where mind had slept,
still imprisoned in your land
in your dream.
I can see our footprints, frozen like a trail
vanishing as soon as eyes focus too long.
perhaps I moved ahead so much, I came back home.
because this time when the snow came falling
I watched it all alone.