March 25, 2016 by petrujviljoen
Footprint cast in hardened mud
Bits of grass, side-stepped glass
This way she came, did she pass.
Walked away, the dearly beloved –
Journey’s tale significantly veiled;
Flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood.
Won’t you, please, turn the hourglass
Yet to see a footprint, fresh with mud?
Text Copyright PetruJViljoen
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