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I have heard it said there is a danger

In walking across another’s footsteps,

But it is impossible not to tread where others have.

We have marked the land from end to end.

How can I know where to put my size tens where another has not?

There is no virgin ground for me to make my stand.

I am reminded of my mother’s orders.

‘Take your shoes off; I don’t want everyone’s mess in the house.’

She’s right. Did I drag in some lost souls left over mess?

Does he or she sit watching me from the empty armchair?

Have I sat on them?

Would they possess me, whispering

‘There is danger here. I can steal your mind.’

Remembering I have sat there in my grandfather’s favourite chair…

©Anita Dawes