Paths we travel often
Lead to unexpected memories,
Places we have walked before,
Reminders of a previous life.
Often it is sights, sounds or smells,
Hearing a song or petting a dog.
Sometimes it is a thing there all along,
Unnoticed or overlooked too long;
Like that moment walking in the sand,
And looking down to find his feet
In place of my own –
And mine being used by my son.

Written for the We Write Poems prompt #87.


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

7 responses to “Genetics

  1. Oh yes. And I am my mother! Clever poem.

  2. Mark, I really enjoy your poetry. And I can really relate to things you say about family, and parenthood. Thank you for the poem.

  3. Oh, this is indeed nice, Mark. My daughter has my feet (lucky girl) 🙂


  4. Beautifully captured sense of growing into one’s place…and finding it so familiar.


  5. I always hoped this wouldn’t happen — my mother’s feet — but here they are!

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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