TO THE RETIRED SHOES Hang the pain on your mind's wall like an old hat, a rusted clock. Finally, time to rest. And the rose steeped in pain opened for you which you refused to sing, yes, fold it away. Yet the naked blossom did nothing to betray your lonely heart, nor disturbed your sky; and from the empty house the empty words were spoken, that's quiet now and your journey ends. :3/17/05
