In the other room a shoe dropped.
Its sound is cold.
It resounds,
hard,
against the maple wood.
Like a death's knell
your boot fell,
dead,
its heart heavy in its leather shell
laced tight and unyielding.
Come, my love, to my bed.
Forget the day and what lies ahead.
Forget your shoes at the door
and the mud they've left on the floor.
It's only dirt, I'll sweep it away.
For now, I'm grateful for another day
that I've heard the sound
of another shoe fall to the ground.
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