Lost

It's Winter in my mind,
regardless of the season.
Memories burn like footprints
in the softly falling snow.
Through a landscape cold and dreary
Marks the winding path I chose.

Weary from the Journey
I stop to catch my breath,
And ponder where I'm traveling
and why it was I left.
A part of me I've left behind,
A sacred part I cannot find.

So I turn back from whence I came
And shudder in the Arctic frost.
And I retrace my careless steps
In search of where, my way, I lost.
But time has drifted like a snowstorm
And has buried deep my tracks.
               -Marshall Kenneth