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I hear many footsteps of thoughts,
Strolling up and down my reins.
They tread with of laudable various tempo,
Yet, each seem to have her full day.
Times they trample hard to raise notes of worries,
Other times move faintly, to keep my heart still.
When I find them in my dreams,
They come with faces, in acts and scenes.
Some seem so beautiful, but with dubious intent,
Some look fairly bright with happy tidings,
But their storylines is what I must note,
To either entertain or drive them from time.
These footsteps sometimes come to life,
As I find them hording in my acts.
Not as though I planned to do so,
Just that in thinking I become so!
Now, I scream to silent the odd ones I hear,
That some day, I might not give to them life.
