The way my toe strays, pauses and stays,
As stagnant as lazy water in unthirsty hole.
They may say that I’m too fast
And if slow; tongues will sure call me sluggard
Too small for the world and fits yet my feet
The circle your tongue rolled sounds awesome
And your attire blazes in sun accordance
O human! The truth of my soul; I love my shoe!
Though yours be covered with gold and has a sheen
I’ll neither touch nor force my feet in it
You said my swarthy face causes the night
I wonder if your fair face can light the day.
And if nature’s smell is my scent
You scent in artificial fragments
O let my shoe be for me, me for it!
I have heard your judgment of me;
You perfect and I a wretch of no perfection!?
Please mister! Let me wear my shoe
I adore it same as you adore yours!
My shoe, large or small, fits me well anyway!
Written by: Stephen Crown Gyet
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.