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Foot Prints


Snow dances, like graceful ballerinas on the early morning breeze

Slender young branches serenade each flake as it kisses the forest floor

Powdery residue accumulated in cotton wool mounds against tree trunks

Pail sunshine broke over the hillside bringing light where once shade was

Bubbling over the snows-cape like a babbling brook picking out the unevenness

Wild Boar and deer tracks crisscrossed leaving an impressionist foot print painting

I had left my polar tent to stretch my legs and felt at peace in winter tranquillity


As I gazed around at the perfect picture I first caught sight of this ice maiden

Her long silvery blond stretched down her red coat my eyes transfixed

My heart battered my chest, I could not resist my feet as they took me towards her

Almost there she sensed my presence half turning toward me gestured me come

Her angelic face, her eye’s, her full mouth, I had to have her, make her mine

Snow fell heavier and wind quickened hiding my love from my wanting eyes

The gust of air disappeared as did my ice maiden save for her footprints


With hope anew I made to follow her steps that bed me forth between thickening woods

I dodged the whip of low branches quickening my pace catching occasional glimpses

With startling abruptness the tree line stopped, I was in a clearing facing a small house

There she was on the porch, her moist succulent red lips whispered of seductions

I drew next to her and we kissed slowly, softly, as music and cackling filled my ears

The bitter taste of blood filled my mouth, poisoned, body weak, the witches fell upon me

I was dying, eaten alive, my final screams drowned by a murder of crows taking flight



©Phil Golding Dec 2007

◄ Poetical Speakers Corner

Emotions to Distant Shore ►


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clarissa mckone

Thu 27th Dec 2007 04:18

This is an interesting story, I like it.

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