~ Fingerprints ~ 
.
People that have
Touched our lives
Leave prints on the
Delicate glass
Of our souls.
.
Some become worn
And smeared by
The wear and tear
Of time;
Others barely shimmer
In the pale moonlight
Of wistful, lingering memory.
.
Our minds, like
Twinkling Christmas trees
Light one memory --
Then another;
Until some burn out.
.
We are here
To collect these prints
Until such time
The glass of our souls
Becomes frosted...
And thoughts and memories
Are so mingled
They appear like a million
Fireflies against a backdrop
Of a once cavernous soul.
.
The stars are all
His angels' fingerprints
On the gossamer fabric
Of space,
As they peer for centuries,
Observing our resolve.
.
I find our respective
Journeys
Like those fingerprints
On our souls...
Very personal
And unique.
One of the gifts
They leave behind
Is remembering
The touch that
Put them there.
