|
| |
Pause
Footsteps frozen in time:
Your last words.
Your final memory
Embroidered on my soul
In the garden,
Where you used to play.
You made pawprints on my heart
The day I met you
That never faded away
But soon the rain will come
And your footsteps,
Engraved in the winter ground,
Will turn to mud and
Disappear.
Copyright ©
Amelie Ison
|
|