FootprintsI get it; your morals, your standards,
how you would lay on the tracks
for the things that you stand for.
But I want that respect,
I refuse to be slandered.

I want the uppity,
holier than thou
way of thinking abandoned.

Agree to disagree? I wish,
but you look down upon my disbelief.
Accept who I am,
for my beliefs I will keep.

We may walk different paths,
but the destination’s concrete,
At the end of the road,
tattered shoes on our feet.
These paths that we’re walking?
I told you they’d meet.

For nobody knows,
when it comes to the “soul.”
I feel like for most,
this “soul” is a show.

Hop off that high horse,
walk a little while.
Put on my shoes and start walking,
you have exactly one mile.


Brandon-Brandon Fromm is my eldest son. He is a talented wordsmith, lyricist and story teller. After years of begging him to write something for me, he finally relented. He hosts the Facebook group “Pencil to Paper” where he and his like-minded friends share some of their writing. Brandon and I disagree daily, but we both respect each others’ intelligence and we have our best conversations after 2 a.m. 

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