How many fingers do I have?
Enough to work to the bone.
How many hands do I have?
The two that I do own.
How many toes do I have?
Enough to fill my shoes.
How many feet do I have?
The two that I do use
to get me where I want to go,
walking a leisurely pace.
It seems to be a lost art anymore.
Most are in a race.
But since I am retired
I don't ever rush around.
My fingers, my toes, my hands, my feet
make me slow right down.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem