IF I were
a broken soul
who could mend me,
the cobbler
down the road?
With his crafty skills
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 these empty holes.
My Cobbler, sir!
Repair my soul
,insufferably I plead!
October 21, 2015
A HUNDRED POEMS – XIX
3 responses to “A HUNDRED POEMS – XIX”
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October 21st, 2015 at 1:43 am
Beautiful
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October 22nd, 2015 at 12:58 pm
Thank you so kindly!
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October 22nd, 2015 at 2:39 pm
It truly is my pleasure ♡
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