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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Cultural >> ID #1071365 |
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Footsteps I hear the sound of footsteps retreating through the years. They call me to another time when life was raining fears. Living life so careless then, watchful eyes upon the skies but the missiles never flew and no one ever really dies. We didn't have a cell phone or high definition T.V.'s. Aids wasn't a killer then, rainforests still had trees. The Beatles were the Fab Four, nuclear winter never came. Everybody still marveled at Albert Einstein's brain. Friendly skies were safe to fly, Woodstock rock and rolled. We didn't ever have to lie; America was proud and bold. Man would walk upon the moon, the Vietnam War would fade. Bob Dylan was in his prime as The Doors sang "Soft Parade." Gentle winds blew across my face and time was held at bay. Young lives would never cease and footsteps went the other way. Now my life has come full circle; the seas of change are vast. Everything I knew back then has come back to me at last. I hear the footsteps in retreat, they grow fainter in my ear. Time has finally caught up to me so faint but getting near. ![]()
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