What I remember most

Is the sound of our feet stepping together the silent night.

Whether was it a  happy, carefree walk on the sand

Trough a hot summer night

Or whether was it hurried feet

Running off the sturdy cold

I always heard the sound of your feet stepping along with mine

No matter if they were happy feet

Coming back from a celebration party among laugthers and small talks

Or if they were heavy, griefing feet

Worried about the day next

The sound of them, behind mine

Was something so subtle and at once, so fullfilling

That I can still listen to those steps, sometimes

As if there was some dead person walking behind my back

And the funny thing is

They might be scary

And it might be an annoying sound sometimes

But I like hearing them, still

Wherever I go

They keep me company

Yet.

And I have the impression

The sound of our feet stepping the ground

Will follow me

Even on clouds of heaven.

Because, above all, they are heavenly.