Wednesday, August 3, 2005
I think that I shall never meet
a poem as lovely as some feet.
feet whose little toes are curled
with careful grace and then unfurled
feet that carry a body all day
and move one in a particular way.
feet that may in summer sweat
but quickly dry away their wet
beneath those arches miles have passed
and winter chills been deeply cast.
feet are used by you and me
but only a fetishist
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