Step by Step We Walked
Poems For Me, From Friends, By Friends
The thought of holding your hand,
Felt real as I held on to hope
Each and every second you were away,
And each syllable you say
That we’d go the same way.
I caught up to you,
You caught up to me.
You picked me up,
I picked you up.
Calls and messages left like leaves,
Brown, orange, and yellow,
Covered the road behind us
With our eyes set on the horizon
Where the sun both sets and rises on us.
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Talks of a dream-built shelter where we’d stop
And take the time to explore
More than the path
We were both on.
But the path wound and split,
Bowed and bound by our realities.
We had to choose what was best.
Tin cans and phone calls
Are poor substitutes
When you need a real one to hold
Tin cans and phone calls are poor substitutes
When you need a real hand to hold,
As you brave the path ahead.
Keep reaching for your dreams.
Hopefully, you’ll find a hand reaching back.
