My Feet

my feet can never be any
bigger
than the dropp of the rain
that the pregnant
cloud is shedding

i cannot hold this world
with my arms
my palms fall short of the
width
necessary for
the holding of the
fruits of the
loom

i am confident
nothing is there to harm
my beliefs
for tomorrow's siblings
of early morning
naps and
piques.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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