On My Feet

I’m on my feet looking into the sky.
The ground is shaking because the sky is so full of thunder.
My toes fit nicely into my shoes, but my head abhors being covered with an umbrella.
I am so sick of being like this, while you always possess the same equanimity.
I grow so painfully slow while you are forever young.
Many voices speak to me, but I always listen for yours.

I never quite know what to do, but you always tell me of the goodness.
I sleep with dream people running from my ears and you send them home to me quiet and obedient.
The wind crashes through the trees as puff-ball clouds float ever higher.
My shoes are worn from skipping over city sidewalks and your hat sits perfectly on your head.
The dog growls and the bird coos.
My bones creak when I bend and you find comfort in all circumstances.
My belly aches every few hours for attention while you always fill me.
The house cat weighs as much as your house.

The butcher and baker slave for the master, but you demand little.
My chest beats extra hard when I am afraid, but not when I call for you.
My money is such a pittance. You seem to have it all.
Everything is outside of me and you find room inside of me.
I take a pill for my aches, and you bring deep swallows of pleasure.
The earth is covering itself with fallen leaves while  you are veiled in crystal light.
Earthquakes may terrify me, so I listen for gentle vibrations.

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