BROKEN FEET PAPA LESLIE LOVE
Bless be the ties that bind
He was my Papa Leslie
She was my mama woz
In my despair, they took me in
Like a broken toy, my feet hang thin
Tall and thin sharp blue eyes like a pin
His fishing attire you would admire
But he found time to catch a fire
With my broken legs, he sought to cure
Wrapping it cautiously with a wire
Upon his back, he carried me to the shore
A rubber shoe he fashioned in devotion
Vowing to cure my legs back to motion
Dipping my feet swaying like a locomotion
The herbs he used were none compete
Binding securing daily repeat to my feet
Yes after a while I did try to walk a bit
Day by day he carried me to the ocean you see
Relentless and tireless he won't give up on me
Till the seawater heals my broken feet that
I may walk on level ground.
His secret I vow not to keep my papa was discreet.
So here is to Grandfather Leslie what a treat.
Whispering Voices Poetry / Timeless poems series
