Friday, January 13, 2012

The hardest part of my day...removing my slippers.

My black slippers are black like my hair,
My black slippers are so much fun to wear.

They wait by my bed until the next morn,
And when I awake they keep my feet warm.

And when I come home to sit and read a book,
It is up toward the ceiling they always look.

When it the kitchen Jason's supper to make,
My good old black slippers don't let my feet ache.

And down through the years as I face the cold,
I know on my soles the faithful black slippers of old.

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