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Description
The Lost Right Shoe
searching for his partner,
but he's the other right shoe
the right shoe got lost, and his partner got left alone
and his laces are tattered
and his sole bleeds all over the road.

The shoe smells
like all teenagers,
it smells of rejection and fear,
and his sole is wet from his tears of sad.
His tongue licks his tears from his eyes
until his eyes are too scratched
so he cannot seek out his long lost love,
and the laces sew them shut
blinding him to the world
with no fellow shoes to help him through,
alone.

The cruel gravel rips open his sole,
the shoe isn't understood,
noone understands
and he is left, desolate, to the whims of the open road
kicked from kerb to street and into gutter-grills
by prada, gucci and cole.
Is there no one left
to save this generic shoe's sole?

Near this street was a storm drain
on which the cobbler liked to row
He was the barefoot hobo
armed with a pen of vitae and nothing more.
From afar the cobbler spotted a shape
twas a shoe, tossing and turning in his boat's wake
the shoe was fair, an excellent catch
but it needed a pair, an excellent match
with sharp steel and soft leather
and this river was bountiful with shoes galore
this shoe would be alone nevermore
so the cobbler armed with his mighty pen
what was odd is now even
and the shoe curled up his tongue into a delighted smile
and kissed his mate for quite a while
in them the cobbler walked many a mile
and the two were happily complete
they looked so good, pretty and sweet
until along came a pair of smelly feet.