Though they are so close,
less than a breath away,
they are always just out of reach.
We know they're coming,
sure as the sun,
or waves upon a beach.
We glimpse them often,
while in our dreams,
or out the corner of our eye.
Will we laugh or will we cry?
The next to come
may be like the last,
or may be our last, that blows!
They line up behind,
they line up ahead.
Which line is longer, who knows?
We see them coming,
but we can't see them,
these footprints into time.
One by one,
they lead us up,
the stairway of moments we climb.
© Copyright 2017 bobthebuilder. All rights reserved.
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