It comforts me to know
That my feet do not disgust you
Because they seem to offend
Most people
They are the feet of
A man who has walked
Everywhere he has gone
Or at least everywhere
That was worth going
Cracked and calloused
Often blistered with nails torn
But what sane person would
Would not love these feet
Or would gladly trade
Their knots and gnarls
The hardness of sidewalks
Countless kisses beneath street lamps
The city secrets we found on our walks together
And everywhere that was worth going
For a pedicure?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem