Wednesday 31 October 2012


They were last
To leave the womb
Lingering in the safety there

Softly kicking
The fretful air

They took their time
To stand and bear
The burden of

A life

The ever increasing
Heaviness of body

Dressed in fresh
Socks on Sundays
Smoothed into comfort
By the loving stroke
Of a Mother’s hand

And being young
They were swift
And strong
And unconcerned

Running bare
On the hot concrete
Of urban summers

Delighting in the
Tickle-fresh feel
Of the country grass

And many a late night dance

In their ageing
They are tender
Once again

Tired and sore
From wear and tare

Squeezed in the too-tight
Shoes of every fashion

Knotted and gnarled
And twisted

Taking pleasure now
In the bathing of warm water

Resting on the footstool
Of a day and journey’s end

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