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.
Nice.. Loved it..