Footsteps

It is her again
She always walks past
High heels clicking very fast
Not even slightly
Out of breath
Name not known
So I’ll call her Beth

At first I didn’t
Mind at all
Then it became a footstep brawl
Just walking to work
Became a game
If I ever
Saw her again

To her I guess I was no one at all
Another pedestrian paced at a crawl
Just another obstacle to overtake
A parted wave left in her wake

Today would be different
I would stay in front
An old heavy animal
Still in the hunt

Chased from behind
By the lighter faster feline
Totally oblivious
No start line

I thought about strategy
Wore lighter clothes
Nemesis the same
Elegance flows

Contemplation
The mind within
Oh damn
I didn’t see that bin

Mark Scotchford © 11/12/2015

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About markious72

Here I wish to let my strange and vivid imagination and opinions run wild. I do hope you like what you read. I would love to be a writer, I won't pretend otherwise. Although it is only in the last couple of years that I have realised it. I guess if it meant to happen it will. Happy reading, happier writing. :-)
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2 Responses to Footsteps

  1. Cecilie says:

    That poem is probably life in a nutshell. Well done Ian!

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