"Oh Sweet Feet" - June 11, 2012

 [For the past year I've been battling foot ulcers in a pretty severe way; it was the inspiration behind this poem.]

Attached to us from time of birth,
Carrying us through feast and dearth.
Often we give no mind to their care,
Taking for granted the state of their affair.
As children we played “this little piggy” with each digit,
And all through life we tap them when we nervously fidget.
We use them to run, dash, skip and play,
Sometimes walking for hours each day.
Yes, there’s the occasional stub, strain, or strenuous sprain,
But faithfully they carry us no matter our weight gain.
Pedicures and reflexology may be the pampering preference of some,
But for me, I previously gave these appendages thought next to none.
That’s until two summers past when this beast first reared its ugly head,
Which, since that date, has filled my life with a fair amount of dread.
A thorn from a rose bush fell silently in my shoe,
The result of that injury no one could fore-knew.
In time an ulcer formed that a quarter could’ve fit inside,
It took three months to wait out that unpleasant ride.
Little did I know it was to be the first of a rising tide.
Another injury occurred almost a year to date;
Thankfully my skin, in time, did fully regenerate.
Sadly, a continued bombardment of ulcers has been my woe as of late.
Switching from right to left and left to right,
At times their size and number have been an ugly sight.
With the aching and burn that accompanies each one,
Needless to say my tired dogs aren’t having any fun.
Still waiting out the most current storm of unpleasant soars,
I holdout faithful that complete healing will soon be in store.
Swollen and scarred from the horror that has befallen them,
I no longer take for granted the supports at the base of my limbs.
I yearn for the days when I gave these appendages very little thought,
When, at will, I could go outside for a pleasant trot.
Now I’m painfully aware of gravity and every object on approach,
And how an impact, on my skin’s health, could painfully encroach.
Alas, I ought to be content with the things the Lord has allotted unto me,
For things could always be worse, that’s something I can plainly see.
Though foot ulcers are undesirable as undesirable can be,
At least they aren’t facial ulcers that would transform me into something ugly.
So the lesson to all my readers out there,
Who give your pedal pushers no thought nor care;
Think on the woeful tale that’s been told here.
Give your tootsies a gift of something neat,
Speak to them words that are kind and sweet,
Tell them your gratitude is solid as concrete,
Or give them a foot bath where little fishies eat
Your dead skin, which for the fish, is a yummy treat.
Remember to keep them clean, tidy, and smelling like a rose,
So they don’t become unpleasant to the eyes or foul to the nose.
And that’s how I choose to end this ranting of a prose.