Black leather, inky sky,
A baby cries out into the night,
Frightened by creaking noises
That shriek and squeal
As the wind whips the trees,
Twisting them into ghouls and monsters
That claw and scratch at the window glass.
White leather turned yellowish-brown,
Yellow-brown dog that he used
To play with and cuddle when he was a boy.
White buttons, powdered tea cakes,
It's tea time and the mother calls
For her little one to come for
Lemon tea and sweet cakes.
The boot is old, worn.
Its mate is missing, long gone.
Still, it has meaning
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