Poetry

Step 31 (91.)

Footprints in the snow.
How long ago did we leave these?
They are surely our own.
We retread our own steps,
until they diverge at a sidewalk.
Theirs go one way, mine the other.
We dreamed in difference,
not indifference, and while we filter
experience in different ways,
we worked together in the end.
A dynamic dream duo, I should think.
Yet we walk into waking life as solitary beings.
I turn, they turn, and our backs face each other.
Walk ten paces and turn again.
They have turned as well.
I look, they look, we are gazing at each other
in a way that isn’t quite caught or felt in sleep.
I raise my hand.
They raise their hand.
We wave. We leave.
A wave of exhaustion washes over me,
and I trudge the final few steps to my door.
Turn the key, walk inside, prepare to turn in.
The blankets are cold, but I will warm them in time.
I have walked thousands of miles through minds,
and it is time
to wander alone.
The final step before sleep: to say
good night.

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