The street strewn with shoes, 

Shoes of varied kinds. 

Each had a story to tell, 

Of its owner and self. 

The tales of self spoke about

Being beaten to flatten

And be moulded into designs. 

The numerous pricks and scratches

Oh! Terrible to hear. 

The shoes reflected their masters’ lives

And they were the living examples. 

The ones tattered and torn

Spoke of poverty, fatigue and hard work. 

The ones spotless and shining

Lived a life of luxury you see. 

Startled, I woke up from the dream, 

And rushed to see my shoes

As they would sing my tale along.