It's really weird how thoughts pop into our heads. While touching up my crewcut, a poem I wrote nearly 30 years ago started bubbling up in my brain. Here it is, more or less.
Feet are for walking (or so I've been told).
It's been that way since the days of old.
But, from what I've seen, that's not really true.
There are other things that most feet do.
There are footballs and footsteps and footprints of age;
footers and footnotes to cover each page;
footing and footwork to help make a stand;
footholds and foothills that cover this land.
But whether in north, east, west or south,
feet are commonly found in one's mouth.
A phenom I'll grant, so hard to be so
to totally cover the heel and each toe.
Still, most people won't let this get in their way
for they cram it in once and that's where it stays.
We're talking 'bout doctors and lawers -- people of wealth
plus the folks in the ghetto; heck, even myself.
This penchant we have it's like a disease
one that moves 'round on the wings of the breeze.
Whether in romance or nations at war
your mouth is the place your foot was made for.
But one shouldn't laugh for it sometimes brings pain
'cause sandals and boots are made of coarse grain.
We should all know by the way it appears
that some keep their feet in their mouths for years!
The solution, it seems, is to quit making shoes
for a shoe in one's mouth has hardly a use
(except, of course, to remind of what's there
that fashionable piece of unsightly footware).
Well, I've now come to the end of this tragic tale.
I covered it all from hill to the dale.
The moral, I guess, should not be in doubt --
This foot in my mouth will never come out!