These feet tell such a story.

They don’t have many lines because they were premmie.

Once they were very tiny.

They haven’t grown for almost three years.

I’ve not had to clip toenails for that long either.

It’s because the illness and medication has slowed their growth.

Sometimes I look at them and feel sad

but not today.

They’re a little bit dirty today because they’ve been outside

but usually the owner has them socked or stockinged and shod in any number of beautiful shoes.

They have the tell tale ‘mongy Mummy toe’ at the end – the last little piggy coils under its neighbour,

just like mine

and all of the sisters.

These feet are relaxed at the moment of capture.

They are happy feet.

These feet tell such a story.

They were also premmie and small

but big for a 1700 gram boy

and today they are hoofers!

I’m still waiting for the owner to grow into them.

They are a source of much tripping on flat surfaces.

Some say that if your second toe is longer than your first

it means you think with your heart instead of your head.

That would be true of the owner of these feet.

I’m not sure about the wicked curling over and under of toes.

Genetically, we can’t find anyone else who has them.

Someone said it was a sign of madness.

The jury is still out on that one.

These feet work hard every day,

they run and jump and poke and splash, they pedal and kick stuff (occasionally even sisters)

and they are hardly ever in shoes

even in Winter.

These feet are busy.

These feet tell such a story

These feet are often found together.

When one set are sick the others are often there, just touching toe to toe.

Sometimes I find them intertwined in a tangle of sheets and sleep.

Sometimes the feet are drawn on, painted on, trodden on.

Sometimes they are used as weapons on each other.

Mostly they are good companions.

Yes, these feet tell such a story.