Wednesday, June 15, 2011


Category: Issue 22


Way down below on the ground are my feet
We seldom have much to say
Without them I know I would be incomplete
And I hope they don’t wander away

When I was a young man my feet were so swift
They would drag me around at a run
Now that I’m old they have started to shift
They tell me the fast times are done

They’re horny and knobby and ugly to see
And I’m happy to hide them in shoes
But when it comes to a stroll by the sea
They are still what I generally use

I don’t know how my feet feel getting old
Though I constantly hear them complain
They’re often too hot and always too cold
And once in a while in pain

But one thing is certain, as long as they’re there
I’ll use them to waddle around
Cause it only makes sense if my head’s in the air
Then my feet must still be on the ground




Posted by tobiash on 06/15 at 09:39 AM | Permalink
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