Look At Her Feet First
J
James McLain
0
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It always looks down, at
fairest crown, is tan dots
of her calf, always helps
She must, know it is sweet
as morning sun, deep vast
soft brown eyes, it washes
clean it's night just repast.
It softens the ankle, in roses
dawn, toes follow songs, it's
breath to reach the tendons
sore is meek, waves in care.
It rushes, soft milk thigh, is to
silk boundaries, on garters.
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