a wart is a worrisome thing
planted there by pixies or gypsies
cocooned in a tough circle of life
it pushes against my shoe and foot
each step tracing its breadth and depth.
it left me once, but returned a spring day
while walking bare feet to gravel.
A kiss from corners of small rocks
revived what was merely sleeping.
First stirred an old familiar feeling,
then an itch that wanted to be scratched
tonight, legs crossed, foot over foot
it looks out across our comfortable bed
to see a vanishing solution on tv
- and laughs.
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