On a hot day in March
I said goodbye to my left foot
And promised I would write
And send word by air mail
My right foot stepped into
The cold waiting on the other side
And steeled itself for
the hard work
To validate the goodbye
My right foot
Bore my weight as I planted
Posts to rest on
It hopped from North York to Scarborough
To Markham and back again
While I sweated, cried, and grunted
I always admired
My right foot
It teetered at times
And wavered at the knee
Yet still stood strong
I felt proud
And others smiled
because my right foot
fit nicely
Into its winter boot
And summer sneaker
But when I finally took time
To look behind me
At an old quiet ache
I was surprised to find
My left foot
Had actually followed
And had been there