Feet

One of my first poems.

Strolling through these empty streets, 

Walking through these pouring sheets, 

And even on this gloomy day

My curious feet will find a way,

Down every curve and narrow path

My tiny toes with little wrath

Explore each side walk

 I slip off my tiny boot

My padding feet finding little loot

The splashing dance, 

Of raindrops that dare to take a chance

To win this rare race

To dry off. 

Reviews

[J. Barnett]

I don't know why, but I picture the setting in early 19th century London just based off of the limited imagery. Feels very desolate, but I enjoyed it very much.