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Footprints in the clay…

A winding lane runs by the river,

Chilly breeze, bulrushes sway,

Waited for you, will forever,

Find my footprints in the clay.

River bank, a bed of acorns,

Autumn leaves, dull moody sky,

Lonesome daylight, fast escaping,

Tired of waiting? No, not I.

Weather changing, river raging,

Howling wind, tormented trees,

Wildlife race in search of cover,

Still I wait, no wish to leave.

Distant cafe, tempting refuge,

Bone cold body, stone cold feet,

Collar up against the tempest,

Head bent low in wait of thee.

Press and TV spread the story,

Girl out late did not come home,

Last seen standing by the river,

Where she went, as yet unknown.

Dreams of love that I still harbour,

Lonely footsteps in the clay.

I’ll be here again tomorrow,

Thirty years now to the day.

© Joseph G Dawson



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