The day walked on crooked feet
Turning in hard, little circles,
From again to again,
And then stumbling off
In the direction
Of a dozen different bruises.
It was a sore and weary thing
By the time it walked me home.
Now it rests,
With its feet propped up
As I content myself
To your pedicural expertise.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Crooked Feet
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