A trail of marks leave,
Once we step to future from the present.
These marks remain stranded.
Objects, Taste, Pictures or Scent.

I call them Footprints.
Their sizes may differ.
Variable meanings they would offer.
But, their significance, every passing moment,
Will be greater.

These footprints are our signatures,
Our memories.
Which even our forefathers left behind.
That lay still untouched in our lives' diaries.

Let's unfold them
Careful, to avoid trampling.
These are our past assets.
Our savings.

Picture courtesy : maitreyee2004

Poem : Elaticecstasy