Ghosts

we follow footsteps in life, treading the paths of ones already far gone.

we follow hoping to know them, thinking by some measure that we may walk their journey for ourselves. we try to know the ghosts to whom these prints belong. but we're chasing echoes. those whose paths we trek are long dead, they live with the face of of another and have gone on so far. we follow strangers.

they have gone on so far from me, these ghosts i once knew. i desperately try to follow the way they once went, but that path is theirs and gone with them and never will i trod upon it. i will never again see my ghosts. no matter how far or long i echo behind them i will never ever catch up.

so i trudge through winter snow with only the mementos of another life and the memory that i once lived.