my feet

He asked to wash my feet. He asked me so kindly, tenderly, and beautifully, if i would sit down on the round, sun warmed bench, and He would wash my, dirty, broken, sinful feet. so He took His tender, soft, pure, clean hands, and began to lather the feet that would one day walk over Him. gently, He took His hard worked fingers between my grimy toes, i remember it tickled, i remember how hard i laughed and when i looked up to see His face, He was smirking; not looking up, but sincerely concentrating on my feet, my toes, my skin, every wrinkle, and every grove i was born with. He never look up, no even once when i asked Him a question, He only nodded His head in deep thought, lost in passionate thought, lost in a thought loving me.
He picked up one foot, carefully placed it in the towel, and began to dry every toes, and every crease i was ever born into, then He gently placed His lips on the soles of my feet, and placed them back into my worn out sandals. finally, He looked up at me smiling, and my tears started to fall. I noticed the forgiveness, love and pain in His breath taking eyes. my King got down on His knees to wash my feet.