Looking at legs

I keep looking at feet passing by
The drug-resistant pain in my right leg
Has slowed down my brisk gait;
The mother burdened with school bags
Drags along her son
Who wants to stop and stare
At the cat, stopping and staring at him
From atop a wayside wall
Covered with leggy film posters
Mocking the stick no bills fiat
The elderly man wills himself on
Though the knees won't bend or mend
Those barefoot seem to hardly care
For the stones or thorns or dirt or heat
Though they do not sing like the pilgrims
That they are like a bed of roses
I look at the rooted trees
That cannot flee or leave or change places
I wonder if they hurt
When the resting feet turn away