My Footprints 

As a youth with little a plan, My dad oft-asked, “What footprints are you going to 

leave in the sand?” 

It meant little then, But with time, it became a motivating line. 

If up to me, What will be, My ultimate legacy? 

A legacy for me, It would seem, A far off, lofty dream. 

After all, who am I? I’m just average, Somewhat shy. 

Then I realized something, you see, It is up to me, My ultimate legacy. 

My grandchildren and great-grandchildren, What will they see and think of me? What is my legacy? 

Will they see that I pursued my dreams, Or that I settled, For something in-between? 

That I lived a life doing what I loved, Or one filled with, Should’ve, could’ve? 

Footprints remain for all time, So I can’t commit, The ultimate crime. 

What is that crime, you say? It is, of course, Not seizing the day. 

Yes, before I die, I’d rather fail, Than not even try. 

I will reach for the sky, Laugh, And cry. 

I’ll cry from joy, not sorrow, Because I lived for today, And planned for tomorrow. 

My legacy, You see, Is truly up to me. 

That’s my view, But now I ask, What will you do? 

Poem by Erik Qualman 

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