The Old Shoe

It rests, 
on the edge of the porch.
Only talks to it's mate.
Both are used over and over.
Full of holes,
wet, tired, broken.
​
The laces frayed, 
they scrape, slip, 
and one day
are left at the beach
only to be washed to a rock.

Where one is lost.
The other is sad, 
dirty, alone.