Some Different Views Of A Shoe

Different eyes,

Light upon the same thing,

In one it ignites joy,

While it makes another’s world spin,

Boy oh boy,

Have you ever considered,

That what’s good for the digger,

May be bad for the chigger?

 

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I found some new soles,

They are so awesome,

They make my soul sing,

Did u just say something?

I didn’t actually understand a thing,

I was just doing some imagining.

 

Oh,

Yes I do know,

I’ve a closetful already,

But I must make these beauties mine,

If it costs me my last dime.

 

Shoes,

They are so exciting,

You must have some in every style,

And each style in at least a few colors,

Buying these will make me smile,

If I run out of space,

I’ll just start putting them in piles.

 

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A hole tunneled in a crack,

Of a busy sidewalk,

That is my front door,

I like being in the middle,

Of the daily hustle and bustle,

But there is one thing about it that I abhor.

 

They scare me,

And no matter when,

I need to come or go,

I am greeted by them,

No doubt one day,

One will be the reason for my end.

 

Some are fast,

And some are slow,

But they’re always going past,

These shoes that encase people’s feet,

Ready to squash a bug like me,

Who dares reside on their main street.

 

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I’ve made a nest,

In the corner of a cupboard,

I really like it too,

But I may have to move.

 

Apparently the lady of the house,

She is scared of me,

A teeny-tiny mouse.

 

She was up early today,

And saw me doing,

My morning dart across the kitchen,

She screamed at me so long and loud,

I clearly saw her pearly whites,

Who knew the little woman,

Could be such a chicken?

 

Now I’m on one side of the room,

And she is on the other,

I see her taking off her shoe,

To try and bash my head in,

I hope I make it past,

That horrifying thing,

As I make a mad dash for cover.

 

I made it,

And she had a hissy fit,

I’ve now got an enemy,

And she can whip them off pretty fast,

They are a definite danger to me,

So until I move,

I guess I won’t be sleeping very soundly.

 

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A big comfortable house,

Where I’m the one and only dog,

I have many toys,

And a bed with lots of blankets,

I’m allowed to make a lot of noise,

And I eat foods fit for a fancy banquet.

 

I enjoy all of these trappings,

But what I really love to do,

Is chew on a good shoe.

 

I miss my people when they’re out,

So I sniff around ’til I find something,

That smells strongly of them,

Very good!

They’ve left more shoes lying around,

I wag my tail,

And go to town.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Cupcake Is Born

Early one Saturday morning,

An old London Lady,

Was deciding what to make,

“I know”, said she,

“I think I will bake,

I’ll bake me a big batch of cupcakes”!

 

So she got busy,

And worked herself into a tizzy,

Fast she wanted them done,

Because she had,

An errand to run.

 

After they were cooled,

She got out things to make them pretty,

As she liked eye-appealing food.

 

Little did she know,

The sprinkles would set one free,

One sprinkle had magic ability,

That made that cupcake,

Able to flee.

 

Out into London’s streets he wandered,

Where exactly he was headed,

He hadn’t really pondered.

 

He rounded one last bend,

Ending up in the West End,

Near the Covent Garden,

On a street called Drury Lane.

 

Outside of an enormous structure,

Was a sign for a bakery,

And on the stairs,

Leading in there,

Sat the famous Gingerbread Man,

Petting a cat with a loud purr.

 

Standing up to shake hands,

And greet the Cupcake,

He said “Hello, I’m the Gingerbread Man,

Who are you?

You look fresh-baked”.

 

“I’m Clyde The Cupcake,

And yes,

You are correct,

I am a fresh bake”,

Replied the runaway Cupcake.

 

As conversation kept on,

The hours flew past,

And soon the night was over,

They had talked until dawn.

 

That was some time ago,

Still they are the best of friends,

They remain close,

Enjoying the fine shopping in that area,

And going to the theatre,

But working for the Muffin Man,

Is what delights them most.

 

Among their most loyal clientele,

Is that old London Lady,

That Clyde knows well,

She now buys their treats,

Because she’s scared to bake,

Ever since her sprinkles,

Put her Cupcake,

Under a spell.