carymiller.net

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

-Pablo Neruda

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 12th, 2009 at 9:54 pm and is filed under poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.