My feet in a shoe

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A poem by my son:

My feet in a shoe

They stay cramped in a dark space all day

Wondering, when will we be free to see the air

Oh air, the sweet fresh morning air

How I love to breathe the air.

Yet I was meant to stay in the dark space all my life

My poor, poor feet in a shoe

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2 thoughts on “My feet in a shoe

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