Sara inherited
her grandmother’s ankles.
"Bloody tree trunks"
her mother would say,
who hadn't.
Boots helped
but she dreaded summer,
sandals and
beach-bare feet.
Other girls her age
went to dances,
feet barely contained
in gossamer straps.
Hers bulged obscenely.
She despaired knowing nothing
could achieve a trim,
slim ankle.
Until she met Joe
who saw only beauty
in her eyes.
Share the love
Report a Bug
1 Pages:1
Please Rate This Submission:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- Recent
Comments - Add a
Comment - Send
Feedback Send private anonymous feedback to the author (click here to post a public comment instead).
English
There are no recent comments (3 older comments) - Click here to add a comment to this poem or Show more comments or Read All User Comments (3)