It’s not about you or me in the end
it’s not about what was said in haste
or not said in fear.
It is about the footprints in time,
the memories and uniqueness of what we made,
the influence we had on others, good and bad.
Our graves, like soldiers on the battlefield
may never be marked or legible,
just a photograph in a tattered frame will remain.
Our moments will die with us,
why we denied ourselves of more will be the only regret.
Her Two Cents
A footprint is an imprint of a slice in time. Some are never seen, others last longer than we’d like to imagine. Do we remember with sharper clarity what we’ve been denied or what we’ve failed to undertake?