I didn't know you

Dusty shoes In the charity shop Moulded to the shape Of a previous occupant There must be evidence everywhere There is... Of who was there The grooves in stone steps in the mill Worn away by the workers Every etching on a gravestone Testament to the incumbent As well as the soul that held the chisel, dug the grave and filled in it All in a day's work As I lay here Changing the space I inhabit I don't know what I've shaped Or how I play a part Maybe I don't I might just be a whisper on the edges Of a really long story That I sit quietly through Until my things will be collected And given to someone else