My Own Two Feet
I walk on given precious gems
far better than a crown of gold
two stands with jointed wiggling stems
to bring me places yet untold
As swift as wind, gentler though
to climb the highest rocky peaks
for dashing past the trees that grow
beside the spring time lazy creeks
Graceful, still, awkward Why?
Getting longer, skilled, with age
many shoes, new pairs to fly
a ballerina takes the stage
They're mine, not perfect but complete
down below, my own two feet
Copyright © Luther Seahand | Year Posted 2018
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