Footprints

I have known how it is

To walk on the wet beach at dawn

And not leave footprints behind

For some solitary figure to follow them.

Or to play upon a flute

In the quiet of twilight

Let the notes merge with the moist breeze

And waft past unheard.

I have experienced

How the sunbeam feels

When passed through a prism

To be split into a spectrum.

And as a mannequin

I have plastic stood

By the shop window and stared

At  life passing by.