On Foot

Sat at the bus stop, head down, watching
Feet.
Shoes of all sizes, colours,
Moving past, unaware.
My eyes on them. But none are right.
None
Carry the face that makes me break into a smile. None
Are the base for the shoulders I can run my hands across. None
Hold up the arms that hold me,
The hands that tangle in my hair and stroke my face. None
None are the feet that lead to the legs
To the body that I press myself against in sleep. None
Give that motion, the lazy, smiling, strolling amble
That brings out the sun.
And it makes me sad.
I want to see those feet that carry what I love.