THE FOOTMAN

When I was just a little boy
and you brought home a date,
I'd hide myself beneath your chair
and silently I'd wait.
When after tea he'd bring you there
and set you on his knee,
I'd listen to the things you did
without a thought of me.
I'd watch your ankle tremble,
and sometimes I would see
his hand reach down to touch the foot
that meant so much to me.
Now I am grown and found new love
but sometimes when I muse,
I find I have passion I never shall lose
for old brown shoes.


1988 by James Nathan Post