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Wheeled Feet

The feet have wheels of young endeavor,
Their signs are numerous and weighty,
For the weeks go by to succumb to pain
As the days roll by, as the days always sigh.

My Wednesdays are Thursdays,
And their feet ache for the rest of the saying.
These toes are bitten by the cold and frost
That starts to rot with age and reasons.

My ice pertains to processions,
The avalanche of the hungry abode;
A real rest achieves much in the worst
Of crimes.

Why do feet munch at the ridges?
Many solutions are pondered over
After the doors are opened to sin.
Why do my feet retain their time to expand?

This rests the case of the oblivion
That encases us now and forever.
My legs are encumbered by the bright light
Accessing the confines of my household.

poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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