One Foot in the Clouds.

How long does the average poet live?
Do they have a special timely give?
I wonder this as I step through the clouds,
of poets passed, who's footsteps loud,
claiming their gait with timely a wait.
One foot in cloud, my knees almost ache;
my heart sometimes twinges,
the rest not surloin stakes.
I watch with tender footing,
swaying and wobbling,
Staring for longer at what seems like nothing, then famished again I tend to my blushes, bulges and blemishes.