Feet!

because I just love to to walk.

On woolly jumper winter walks
Or breezy summer strolls
Our feet bear our weight like soldiers
As we wear out our souls but not our soles

Unrelenting and supporting
Halted only by our own laze
Feet are our friend from birth to the end
As we potter out our days

While smooth and pretty when youthful
They grow hard and ugly with age
But the more dead skin, the more beauty within
Like the wrinkled but wise old sage

And in the autumn of your years
If you still have a spring in your stride
You can be sure to smile out at the world
Showing all you have nothing to hide

So as you dance though life be thankful
And tell everyone that you meet
Age and heartache, thunder and rain
Are nothing if you still have your feet

Poem for a friend

I wrote this for someone a few months ago.

Yesterday life’s tapestry was written in silken thread
All fresh greens and blues and sunset red
Today you’re tired of the daily drudge
Now it’s an ugly black, greyish sludge

Your beautiful tapestry is all in tatters
With drop stitches and footprints over what matters
I know you’re questioning what it’s all for
I wish I could tell you, but I’m not really sure

But I know how you feel, so what I advise
Is to look again with less tired eyes
Between the holes and the surface grime
Are the sweet arabesques, unyielding to time

So go on and cry, it doesn’t make you mad
We can’t feel happy if we never feel sad
You feel the depression that this time derives
But you still weave joy through other’s lives

You possess the same talents you had yesterday
Your outer hope’s missing but your inner remains
The fears you have now, you’ll still have tomorrow
But they won’t seem so bad, you won’t feel such sorrow

I can’t promise you you’ll never feel sad again
It will work out one day, I just don’t know when
And I can’t predict the path your pattern will lead
But I can help patch things up, whenever you need

Spring Promises

A silk breeze
From an azure sky
Cools my skin
It tends my wounds

I no longer cry
Mascara tears
Of gothic pain

Bluebells make me
Forget the flowers
You bought me
Are now dead

Spring promises
What winter denied:
Forgiveness
Now I breathe free