Wet Shoes

Grey creeps over

the lazy street

the first drops of rain

Hitting your shoes

as you look down

to follow the noise

A little bite on the

nose by the wind

makes you think of

The remembered warmth

of your now empy cup

back in the shop

As your shoes shuffle

on the street in the rain

it makes you think

of that beautiful woman

with whom you used to dance

on a Sunday evening