The feet.

Little feet, crawling

Mouth, the only reception

Eyes watching, witnessing lies

Ears listening cries

Little feet learn

For they let them.

Not so little feet, escaping

Hiding in the dark

Too much light, too real a reality

Succumbing to their way

Not so little feet walk over

Pulling down anything between their path

Not so little feet have learnt

For they let them.

The old feet, at rest

No zeal, no time, no place to run

Old feet, make patters in the dust

Old eyes look, introspect

Of wasted miles, of wasted suns

Old eyes shut, they won’t open

The old feet unlearn

And they let them.