Lost Soles

A city tattooed with torrid tags
shoes left by bins in torn shopping bags
Gutters full of litter spill their load
edging each and every road

Rough sleepers flip-flopping in the morning
Life-dulled eyes with no hope spawning
shake night’s chill blanket as they stand and scratch
under phone-wired trainers on a dealer’s patch

By a canvas bag neatly sits a pair
of polished old brogues left out to air
and in this positively thoughtful way
they await the start of their owner’s day

A gaunt faced woman’s lonely stumble
on barefoot pavements drab and humble
Clutches her slippers to her chest in pain
oblivious to the drench of early rain

Smart stilettos bear witness at the kerbside
of Dawn’s after-club-tumble-into-a-cab-slide
When she wakes much later will she recall
that rowdy night and her final foot fall

 

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