SLIPPERS

Seven pairs of slippers are there,
three pairs small, four pairs big,
they meet everyday,
the shoe rack is small,
those slippers squeezed for space.

the next day, one pair lost,
then another pair misplaced,
now no need to squeeze,
they nicely put,
but scattered.

As time goes by only several still good,
the rest become undesirable, poor quality,
slowly being forgotten.

everything is believe to be fated,
only one big pair stays there,
keep eyes for the three small pairs,
the top shoe rack is now for theirs,
away from those records.
now the tree small pairs going to leave,
Let the only big, rest and glance
if there will be any chance,

Slippers are always born
are also die
as the time arrives
When the suit phase get closer
the feeling can't bear anymore
the SMALL PAIR might wonder
where the rest go?
why they must go?
Should they do so?

*dedicate to those who away but sill keep them close in heart*