The Last Walk

A long road down which we walk, shows not footprints nor tread. I look past my mother and note the changing clouds beyond. Although darkness surrounds the waters we steer clear of, I look at my mother. After all this time and all this that life has charged us with, she smiles. 

Our shoes have flooded from the icy trenches we slide in. Down that road, the last walk. We approach a corner of the forgotten road that wears many lines, but does not give us hope its length. Cliffs on the land jut out at odd angles, still they must forgive. We cannot walk into the ocean, nor can we climb anymore.