What if my foot felt lowly and blue,
Looking up at a knee or a wrist.
And began turning green, as we’re prone to do
When we fancy the glory we’ve missed.

Can’t you just hear my toes up in arms,
Crying out from the depth of my sole?
Wriggling that I might notice their charms—
They might topple me off in a hole!

And where would I be without my best foot
To step forth and traverse terrain?
If my heart said to dance, would I just stay put?
The thought of it boggles my brain!

If we are attached, whose itch have I scratched?
Whose misery or glory dismissed?
Though my tongue’s in my cheek, heed the wisdom I speak—
Pucker up! There’s a foot to be kissed!

Margie Mayfield
August 29, 1996
Houston, Texas