Echoing Footsteps

First, it was my father’s.
Firm and confident
Vibrant and energetic
As he used to be.
Footsteps that I seldom heard
In my time of Fancy;
Footsteps that I often resent
In my time of Rebellion;
Footsteps that I always miss
In my time of Reason.

Then, it was my mother’s-in-law.
Uncertain and discrete
Remote yet present
As she used to be.
Footsteps that got heavier
In her time of Loneliness;
Footsteps that got difficult
In her time of Sickness;
Footsteps that got missed
In her time of Sleep.

And then, it was my boy’s.
Uncertain and unbalanced
Tiny yet energetic
As he used to be.
Footsteps that got firmer
In his time of Rise;
Footsteps that are getting remote
In his time of Independence;
Footsteps that will be missed
In his time of Glory.

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