Along the curve of rusty rails,
the forest hums in autumn tales.
Each leaf a note beneath my feet,
where memory and longing meet.
All tallied steps upon my shoes,
reminds me love will guide me through.
The trees stand bare, yet kind and wise,
their branches lift to open skies.
The wind recalls her quiet purr,
the warmth I left behind with her.
A thousand miles of tarnished gold,
cannot outshine the love I hold.
I see her face through window’s hue,
the curtain parts, the world is new.
She watches trees, sits still through time,
and somehow knows this path is mine.
The tracks grow faint, the dusk grows deep,
the forest folds itself to sleep.
Yet every mile that fades away,
draws me much closer to her gaze.
And when I reach that gentle door,
her meows will sing alone no more.
No path too far or night too long,
for home is where our hearts belong.
– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy
Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What Do You See # 313 November 03 , 2025
This weeks prompt offered two picture options. This poem was inspired by both pictures. 💕