My gouty foot

shouts doubt at night,

turns up the pain

if I don’t eat right. 

Warming comfort

isn’t enough, to amuse 

my grumbling

two-bit hoof.

My broken big toe

won’t let go.

Keeps telling me off

for its creaky woes. 

It’s my fault

for this sorry state,

should’ve skipped the tackle,

pulled out too late.

My gallbladder

was a c...

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Tiny toes adorned with painted nails delicately set high above the creased velvet goldmine below. Perched a top the gentle slopes guiding you down to the very heart of her most gracious arch.
My eyes now firmly fixed on the very center of her bend. Soft, tender flesh.
A delightful garden leading down to the very soles of your feet. One hand wrapped around your big toe and the other lifting your ...

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