The path I walk upon is painted green
Wild flowers violate, gold and white
Brush against my legs
Rolling hills seem to move
and a gentle breeze
The ground kissing my feet
This step and the next
It asks nothing of me
In all my years, it has been there
Reliably, faithfully meeting each and every step
This is not a dream
Neither domestic nor foreign
Rich or poor
Black or white
Steps upon this earth
That anchors me


4 thoughts on “Walking

  1. Hello Parmis,
    Yes. I resonate with this poem. I, too, fuse walking as my anchor to the earth. I walk every day. Much of my walking (for many reasons) is barefoot.
    It’s good to see you writing here.

      1. Parmis,
        Thanks. I and my family are very well. I still write every day. I’m simply taking a long vacation from the internet. I briefly check things once or twice a week. My head and heart are much smoother because of this. 🙂

        I hope you and yours are well, too. ((HUGS))

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