The Dancer's Feet Poem by Ianaldo Prescott Pourchot
The Dancer's Feet
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The weary Dancer wakes up,
And she dances,
She walks on her feet.
And her tense toes reap deceit,
From Morning’s rise to Evening’s end,
The dancer prances left to right.
The dancer’s feet are rubbed at night,
And she slumbers till morning’s bright,
How sweet her tampered soles feel.
When they’re held in soft hands,
When they’re pampered tight.
Monday, December 20, 2010
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5/4/2024 7:29:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. E.K.L.