[Fox_Child]: 439.My Poetry.On the matter of shoes

Tan accents laced in
A rich creamy froth
On hot chocolate tone
But the flavor’s been lost

Holes are drilled in
So the brown beast can breathe
But the tongue is sewn in
No back talk, guaranteed

Laces are tied
But they do little good
A farce of an effort
As if they even could

But they are just shoes
Simple, brown and tan
Looked at with a poet’s eye
As if I were a fan!