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…