She has but one shoe.
She wears it everywhere.
Left foot, I think.  
Her right foot is bare.
No shoe. No love.
She trudges on.  
She washes her feet  
at night, noticing the
calluses and scars.  
She washes left shoe
scrubs it clean, again
with a deep love for it.  
The next day, left shoe
and she go to school again
stomping their feet all the way  
Marching, dancing, playing
soccer with her friends;
Her right foot scores frequently.
Left shoe just watches.
In once muddy puddles.  
She is happy for left shoe.
She is happy for food. tonight.
She is happy to have a family.
And a school. In her village.  
Where the shoes play soccer
with the non-shoes, concerned
only with making each other smile. 




Leave a comment

    Add comment