A HUNDRED POEMS – XIX

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!

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

3 responses to “A HUNDRED POEMS – XIX

You must be logged in to post a comment.

%d bloggers like this: