Leaving Footprints in the Sands of Time
We leave footprints.
Four warriors walk through the trees of a forest in the rain, cloaked, on guard, and their leather boots press deep into the mud, a testimony to honor, until the rain washes them away.
A pair of lovers walk on the sand of a sunset-lit beach, their bare feet imprinting echoes of bliss into the sand, until the waves of discontent wash them away.
Polished heels click on the hard floor as a serious woman dressed in black walks down a badly lighted corridor to her apartment. The boot-heel comes down, (and she flashes a smile that lights up the world, to her cat, as he walks beside her) and a scuff mark is left in the cement. (But there is no evidence of that starlight smile…)
His fingers dance across the keyboard, weaving dreams into the minds of those who will see these tales. His index finger depresses the ENTER key, leaving the warm glow of a finished story in its wake.
As I watch the credits roll across the screen, as the final moments of his death are etched in my mind, the tears roll down my cheeks, leaving footprints of sorrow and my eternal love….
For the moments and their memories.