Ode to My Best Friend's Feet Which Stink
At long legs end majestically they wait
With digits each an eternity long,
The balls and arches and heels set your gait,
Soles impressions left in sand and song.
Enveloped in shrouds of cotton and wool,
Locked in coffins of rubber and leather,
The steel-toed tombs constrict and smother full
Sealed against cold and inclement weather
In work, in leisure, they behave the same,
A Hundred steamy glands producing sweat
This flood of salty perspiration blame,
For feet odiferous and socks made wet.
You bare your soles because we're friends I think,
So wash them please because they really stink.