I'm still size six, Its you
that's grown too big.
For a year I cradled you like
a child. Now my leather's
tattered, my sole's burnt wild.
Every step you took forward you see,
Was an inch closer to oblivion for me.
The print you and I had left on the sand,
painted the end, now close at hand.
Now sitting on this coffin like rack, my
mind cannot help wander back—
To the time when
I wasn't just another old shoe,
and meant the whole world to you.
Anirban Kapil Baishya (7/4/2012)
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