Last Legs

Hey Toads!  We are on the last leg of National Poetry Month.  (The 23rd day!)  

You (if like me) may also be on your last legs.

And, hey, those are great legs you’ve got there too. 

So go with them!  How about a poem about legs?  Yours or anyone else’s. Including any other creature. 

I had a much clearer picture of a spider but thought it might upset you.

 

From New York City today.

Or the legs of any other being. Below is the Buddha.




 If you want to run not walk away from that idea as far and fast as you can, how about simply “last”?  Now that is a word that can go far.

So the prompt:  last legs or leg or legs or last or lasts. (You can even just write about what lasts--legs or not!)   Your choice!  

(Note that I really mean for this to be broad, and myself to be compassionate, so if you want to link an older poem that fits that's okay too.  Just do try to visit others; compassion is definitely needed right now.) 

Thanks!  (All pics are mine--feel free to use with proper attribution to me, Karin Gustafson, Manicddaily, a/k/a Outlawyer.) 

Something lasting, albeit a little crooked here.