Annabel Cruz - Shoes

His shoes lay on the ground
Two huge galleons
That had collided in the night
And now were sinking
on their sides
Into the deep gray of the shag carpet

They were wounded soldiers
That had bourn for too long
The pounding steel of his weight
Carrying on their backs
A mountainous burden

The soles, late autumn leaves
Gaping with holes
Told of the pain and torture
They had endured in his service
Bearing his wandering soul.

Mangled and twisted
They lay discarded on the closet floor
No trace of gratitude or love
An empty huddled mass
Of dirty worn out leather
And that is all that’s left of him.

Annabel Cruz

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