Squeak

    
                    
                          My shoes go squeak.
                          The left one, mostly.
                          You wax your floors.
                          
                          I sound like a little bird
                          calling for the dawn sun.
                          Except it’s just me alone.
                          
                          I’ll leave off my shoes
                          at the door like you do.
                          Next time, I’ll start to.
                          
                          You should have said.
                          Or was this the reason
                          you started doing that?
        

        


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2 Responses to Squeak

  1. Mike says:

    Always be suspicious when others do your housework for you. Nicely crafted.

  2. slpmartin says:

    Hmm…one does have to wonder why the floors were prepared to produce the squeak…enjoyed the poem much.

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