Wet Footprints

She slept with her bare feet dangling outside the window,
letting the Northwest drizzle tickle them while she lay aslumber.
Some nights were spent with visions of lodgepole pines reaching the blue skies without telephone poles to interrupt the panoramic view. Other nights, she dreamed of burning houses and needles.
She awoke to the gassy bus stop sounds, the smell of auto fumes, and the thump of stacks of newspapers pounded on pavement.
But each day, she tucked her refreshed feet inside the warmth of her apartment though and left wet footprints for friends to follow her back to Eden.


One thought on “Wet Footprints

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s