On the train tracks, I can see
A pink and velcroed shoe,
Straws and empty water bottles;
Also in my view:
A balled-up t-shirt, bottle caps,
A little book for writing,
Some orange peels and ciggie butts -
In all, not too inviting.
I focus on that sneaker, though,
Its owner just a child
And wonder how she lost it,
If her guardian went wild.
She must have had to make it home
With only one shoe on,
Like when we sang of "Diddle Diddle
Dumpling, my son John."
These little hints of what went down
Are there for us to see,
Inspiring poems as well as piquing
Curiosity.
Tuesday, April 23, 2019
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