Preamble

Preamble

Your feet walked the earth—

and stone walls crumbled before them,
stumbling at times,
pitter pattering at others,
paddling through rivers and around lakes,
stomping at your boyfriends,
climbing trees and mountains,
skipping on red-gold carpets
rolled out before you by God himself,
rising up a long, long stone stairway
to the top of the stone hill,
where a dark cave
beckoned them in on tip-toe,
slowly down and down slowly,
where they stopped—
before me.

And my feet—

they stood here all this time,
tapping on this damp earthen floor.

Well—
I admit I dipped them
in the pool over there,
once or twice at least,
even enjoyed the squishy feeling
between my toes,
until a snake slithered out of the mud,
and then I held them slightly
above my head, crossed—
for quite some time.
But then a pitter patter
sent them pacing,
until they came to attention,
right here—
before you.