Shoes Party

Sometimes, Poet goes to the party. Neglecting solitary for awhile. Searching words in the open air. "I hope I can find the most beautiful poem here." This night, I'm very proud with my most colorful body. On an arrival, I try to change my suffering card with a glass of laugh. "Please, don't forget that tear of the card. It will toss in the end of the party," said a man with the shoe, who standing aside the door. He's a waiter or the man who guests waiting for, just because on their arrival, he becomes the first goal. But my welcome drink isn't finished yet when I very shock surprised. "Why the loneliness of mine is here too?" Maybe silently it goes, just before the door unlocked. To it I doubtfully walk. "Ah, are you invited too?" It faster asks. Between felt peevish and ashamed, bashful I am. When I bow my head, again I surprised: I wear the wrong shoes! “Don’t worry, it’s a shoes party. You can take a chance dating the most ideal ones somehow.” I still haven’t any clue, why my solitary is very comfortable by now. 2007