Your footsteps come with the spring
The melting brooks over pavement,
The dancing leaves
My heart listens, softly;
it does not linger.
Perhaps, the wind whispers, after you,
"Thank you for passing."
You had asked me to listen to the footsteps of people passing by, and notice how I cannot hold onto the sound. I think this is what you meant.
I consider myself quite aware of my surroundings but your poem makes me question my awareness even more. Love this!
Thank you very much! It's always amazing to suddenly be aware in our busy lives.
"listen to the sound of footsteps of people passing by"
damn, that's romantic