Tiny Feet

In a body where fascination grows,

Tiny feet command my heart's repose.

A tale tangled within my mind's keep,

Whence this intrigue of feet did creep?

Perchance, it started with a grandmother's gaze,

Always putting me down on life's maze.

Eyes adrift, downward did they stray,

And her petite feet caught my attention's sway.

Yet not of lust did those thoughts speak,

For sexual undertones were far too weak.

Years spent gazing at the earth's grand floor,

Transformed those feet, and something more.

Lovers, too, with small feet graced my path,

Aligned toes, size six, evoking a silent aftermath.

Visions of bunion and crooked delight,

Dared to taint my desire, evoking bile's slight.

How can I explain this curious plight?

Feet, symmetrical and smooth, ignite.

Softness like velvet, as divine as silk,

That vision makes my heart's pulse bilk.

Oh, to intertwine those size five or six,

Linear toes, a dance that love affix.

A moment where passion finds release,

As feet embrace, my desires find peace.

But let us not dismiss a woman's grace,

For when our glances first embrace,

Her face, my eyes seek, a connection true,

Feet merely a part of the intricate view.

Yet still, a heartbeat's second glance will find,

A gaze upon her feet, leaving limits behind.

In those toes lies a judgment's decree,

An in or out, a choice that sets me free.

So, dear reader, judge me if you must,

But know, fascination rises from moments of lust.

Tiny feet, a hypnotic melody they sing,

In this intricate dance, desire takes wing. ("Tiny Feet") by Courtney Weaver Jr.