Sunday, January 12, 2014

SUNDAY'S POETRY



Why do I still have this conformed old shoe?  Two words:  Borderline Hoarder!
CONFORMED©
By Rose V. Smith
Don’t let this be you
A conformed old shoe
No life of its own
Roams where the feet roams
Smells like the feet smells
Swells when the feet swells
Shaped like the feet’s shape
Can’t determine its own fate
The foot will walk for miles
Re-determining the shoe’s style
Yet when the shoe mirror the foot
The hands will toss it for a new boot.
 
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