LOST FOOTPRINTS

I walk bare feet; the sands are cold,
Your footprints are still not very old.
The waves come bold yet ebb off shy,
And I stand tacit beneath the sky.

The dusk is nigh with vermilion shades,
The crimson star but blushingly fades,
Into the sea of covert desires,
As a frail flame of a perpetual fire.

I closely behold your footprints there,
And sniff your scent in crimps of air,
'Tis a moment ere I've heard your chime,
And then all lost in the waves of time.
© Dipanjan