Poetry (Day 213): Every Step

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    Every Step

 

The small boy, concentrating,
marches through
the pile of leaves,
just because it’s there.
Steps wobbling. Crackle
and snap.

He stops by the puddle.
There is no splashing
but he squashes a boot print
into the mud, and watches
the water trickle in,
like the Suez filling
for the first time.

An old footpath.
Step on a crack
break your mother’s back.
Wet tracks behind him.

The small boy, concentrating,
marches onwards, every step
an adventure worth remembering.

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