Polka dot socks,
A bundle of warm,
Binding heat to feet,
To hold a firefly swarm,
Hot nettles and petals,
I speak loosely of form,
But all blurs to furs,
-well not quite but fabric adorns.

Your people are a warm lamp for my soul,
Illuminating the hidden,
And bringing out my colours,
They were made for me and I for them,
Vital organs to keep each other toasty,
And wonderfully purposeful and alive.

Knit me in and wrap me up,
Melt my heart for their service,
Grow me in my love for them,
Set my eyes on the goal,
Helping me to run in love and zeal,
To forget myself and remember them.

For I am not greater than my master that I should refrain from washing feet.