In fields of green they softly tread,
Whispering tales of paths theyâve led.
Through forests deep and mountains high,
Underneath the vast, endless sky.
On city streets where shadows play,
They walk the dance of night and day.
Concrete echoes beneath their stride,
In every step, stories reside.
By ocean waves where sand is warm,
They feel the earth in gentle form.
Prints that vanish with the tide,
Yet in memory, they abide.
Silent witnesses, they remain,
Bearing the weight of joy and pain.
Feet, the silent storytellers,
Of journeys made by dreamers and dwellers.