You get trodden on everyday
And never thanked nor thought of
Bare feet, stocking feet, muddy shoes, wet shoes,
You have seen it all
If you could talk what would you say?
Would you complain?
Or do you like your job (I can't think why)
Would you tell us your dreams?
Do you want to be a flying carpet?
And fly across the world like a bird on the wing,
seeing and knowing everything?
Or are you content laying in frot of the crackling flames, warming yourself by the hearth.