His Feet

By
he couldn't stop looking at his feet.
gnarled gnawed grumpy,
ugly, unused toes,
wrinkled and ancient in youth,
like a tossed paper with a bad grade attached,
crumpled and torn, in the trash can,
yet stories are told within the wretched.
Old scars, ghostily looming
dark patches,neverendingly revealing
yet useless
always peeling
...





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AngelaA. said...
Dec. 18, 2008 at 6:49 pm
You are a good poet. The words make my mouth happy. Not quite a tongue twister, but fun to say.
 
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