The Things We Do for Love
The thistles here are sharp as
tacks.
Unknowingly, we bring them in.
We find them when we feel the pain.
Inside,
barefoot or socks so thin.
They lie in wait for us to find.
Unknowingly, we bring them in.
Those
little rascals are unkind.
They pierce through socks and stick in skin.
They lie in wait for us to find.
So I search for them to begin.
And be glad when I step on one.
They pierce through socks and stick in skin.
Because
for Hubby it’s less fun.
So I attempt to find them first.
And be glad when I step on one.
He
always feels the pain the worst.
The thistles here are sharp as tacks.
So I attempt to find them first.
We find them when we feel the pain.
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