She Washes My Feet

by vermismeridiem

She looks
In dark amber,
Bright eyes—

Watery,
unclouded
Windows—

from them
hidden Purities
of a gray world
are reflected.

No
Heavenly Saint,

But she thanks
for the slightest things,
And Virtues
does she audaciously
Address,

that because of Her,
My feet are rinsed
Ever clean.

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