The Footprints In My Soul
by Michael Doyle

Love is not a monologue,
Talking to myself gets me nowhere.
Let's get on with the dialogue,
Moving beyond where I simply persevere.

Under my empire of ashes
Lives a garden from my heart.
Despite the doom of thrashes,
This is where we start.

In the haven of my heart
Are ghosts that I don't want to depart.
My silver bride was my highest star.
She played out every note on my guitar.

There are footprints in my soul.
They were put there by friends.
It's the give and take that consoles
With every beginning that never ends.

She was my dream beyond the Rubicon.
I turned to look for her in my memory
Only to discover she was already gone.
The empty burn in my soul was once so easy.

In the haven of my heart
Are ghosts that I don't want to depart.
My silver bride was my highest star.
She played out every note on my guitar.

The many voices fit the perfect moment.
They turned into my endless torment.
Caught in solitary, I wish I had wings to fly.
Betrayed again, why do I even try?

Winter's snow falls down into my grave.
There is no voice calling that will save.
A long-distance run around leads to dissension.
It's funny how I used to know my direction.

In the haven of my heart
Are ghosts that I don't want to depart.
My silver bride was my highest star.
She played out every note on my guitar.

(c) December 26, 2025    Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved