Winter Walk Home

I put one foot in front of the other

On a cold saturday morning

Where the grey clouds

engulf the world

in a soft wintery filter


The air is thin and crisp today

such that you could bite through it

with each breath

only to find that it bites back

but I don’t mind


Today I am walking with my father

We exchange words with each step

only to have them pass us by

like ghosts in the winter wind

quietly drifting away


The barren oak trees stretch high above us

looming over our little talks

bending their overworked backs

to grasp pieces of an enlightened conversation

between father and son


Perhaps they’ll remember the wise words

that were exchanged today

because like words in the wind

I will only be able to hold onto them for so long

but i will never forget


the faded image

that lasting memory

of sharing a brisk walk

on a cold saturday morning

with a friend