Scream when you see a shoe

A  small  town, let it be,

For the people lived  ordinary,

‘C’ was not a revolutionary, 

Spent his days in a factory.

Photo by Bruno Cervera on Pexels.com

Grease was his friend,

Grime was his hand,

He liked to pretend,

That nothing could offend.

A good position he was,

his old mother had a big nose;

To thrust into any place,

And he had two children with a mighty face.

Walking to the way home,

He noticed a Building’s first stones,

The thread was stretched wide and strong,

‘A rich’s mansion’ a thought shone.

Little did he knew that was a showroom,

A shoe showroom,

Near the children’s schoolroom.

Glittering shiny shoes those were,

no wonder who would wear,

He said ‘We people never like shoes, never’.

From a fully grown adult to a child,

Asked for the pride,

That those shoes provide,

His children cried.

A shoe showroom came,

It gave them fame,

It brought a busy train ;

Of corporate and multiple chains.

One thing he wishes he could have done,

Scream when he saw those shoes,

And told ghost resided in them,

For he hated to be a 

Salesman.