An Old Shoe

the sun kissed age
into the spent leather sole of
an old shoe at the side of the road
where it remains
its life forever this-
a tale of watching things
like a tattered notebook
and maybe a broken pen
-blue ink flowing like blood deprived of oxygen-
fall carelessly in and out of love

dreaming one day
of romancing a softly worn sneaker, who,
on a perfectly average day
tumbled into the dirt from out of its nest
of a car door.
and of proclaiming love for the other
while Saturday relaxes
into a lengthy star-lit night
and Sunday pulls clouds
-like a magnet pulls iron-
into the perfect image
of silver petaled magnolias
despite the rain.