IF I were
a broken soul,
who could mend me
— the cobbler
down the road?
With his crafty skill
and many tools,
the awl or maybe
stretching tool?
He would surely know
— should I go?
My shoes, so worn
but my soul so full
of empty holes!
My Cobbler, sir!
repair my soul
insufferably I plead!
September 27, 2014
A HUNDRED POEMS – XIX
3 responses to “A HUNDRED POEMS – XIX”
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September 27th, 2014 at 9:19 pm
I like this
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October 2nd, 2014 at 1:29 am
Thank you so much 🙂 ❤
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October 2nd, 2014 at 1:35 am
You’re so welcome < 3
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