Foot For Thought Poem by Stewart Rodricks

My lady love, with grace replete
Heeds not my base joys at her feet,
Where tongue can tell what ankle shows
And suppliant mouth crave supple toes.

Though thrust beneath her beauty's heel
The lowest yields to heaven's feel,
And far above my prostrate reach
Her feet preface Elysium's breach,
Beyond whose forest dell I spy
Twin rubied peaks against the sky.

So that this view may all my senses fill -
Love well - and let her foot fall where it will.