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.
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About the author...
Harris Tobias lives and writes in Charlottesville, Virginia. He is the author of The Greer Agency, A Felony of Birds and dozens of short stories. His fiction has appeared in Ray Gun Revival, Dunesteef Audio Magazine, Literal Translations, FriedFiction, Down In The Dirt, Eclectic Flash, E Fiction and several other obscure publications. His poetry has appeared in Vox Poetica, The Poem Factory and The Poetry Super Highway. You can find links to his novels at http://harristobias-fiction.blogspot.com
Nice
ReplyDeleteI liked it very much!- Carmen Milagros Torres
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