Footprints

They always say you should go for a walk.

By the sea. To breathe the air. Stretch the limbs.

So, I went the other day.

The sea smelled of rotting seagrass, fish

and winter.

Its colours green and steely.

A flock of seagulls bickered over scraps of food.

At the part where the beach loops the

corner, I turned around.

From heavy, wet sand,

A single file of footsteps stared back at me.