Those feet that trip along the tests of time
get blistered, stained and altogether meek.
Their sleepy toes seek solitude and climb
Until a perfect flat they find. Though bleak,

It holds surprises none and welcomes rest
To aches and sores its surface adds no pain
No sharp protuberances mar this test
Comfort's the only trap when all's the same

There's more to ground than being flat, or so
parts other than the toes cry out enraged
Unable to resist and bored they go
Dragged down by happy feet avoiding change

When choosing which part gets to pick the way
Remember what an earthly role feet play