“The Love of Toes After an Injury in the Style of Robert Frost”

In evening’s hush along a wooded lane,  
I limped, unsure, each pebble stinging cold—  
My foot, wrapped carelessly in summer’s bane,  
Had found new ache where once it strode so bold.  

I pondered toes—old friends unknown until  
One pulsed with pain, and limped me off the track.  
A swollen soldier, set against my will,  
Now taught me gratitude I’d long held back.  

For all these years, they bore my weight and need  
Without complaint, five travelers aligned,  
To balance hope, to let me run or read  
The subtle script the forest floor designed.  

Beneath their modest shape, I found delight—  
Their wiggling joy, their grip on morning dew.  
And now I limped, unbalanced by the slight,  
I missed each toe, my every footstep new.  

So, hobbling home, I praised their silent skill,  
Unnoticed artistry, the quiet part:  
Oh, love of toes! The work that they fulfill  
Unseen, until their silence meets the heart.

Create Your Own Poem | Recent Poems