Sep 2016
Going out the back door,
It caught my eye like bird
swooping down on a branch.
A brown old leather shoe
By the fence, in the tall grass.
Sitting like a burning martyr,
It melted in the rain.
It caught my eye like bird
swooping down on a branch.
A brown old leather shoe
By the fence, in the tall grass.
Sitting like a burning martyr,
It melted in the rain.
