Broken, blistered, mallet, bruisedBlack or missing nailsEvery mile run,Even in the perfect shoes,Leaves a reminder, but I never mind.
Reminds me of my marathon days. Nice!
FeetYou danced on my feetYour arms reaching my waistYour blonde hair covering your eyesA cockatiel on my shoulder.The music, I sangAnd we waltzed around the roomWith and audience of stuffed animalsAnd barking dogs.Rick Stepp-Bolling
To be fleet of foot,told to stay in one place,these are the days of our lives~~Virtual running will have to do~~My mind is so breathless, it flies~~
being oldfeet are never barebut when I shower
I am training for my 2nd now because what else is there to do?
My Feetare sea slugs, pink cuttlefish jetting across the floor. Pink-tipped toes top each tentacle, half-moon nails. One toe stands stout and round, the other, scrawny, curls like the pale, segmented larva in a Jumping Bean. Two toes on my right foot, caught once on a drawer, arch up at an awkward angle, their backs angry red, like a spider’s fangs, just before it bites the fly tangled in its web.