In romance they’re scuffed
but the leather is hardy
enough to not deserve
being forgotten.

Linoleum screeches on the odd
occasion where wheels roll by
with squeaking bit-parts
in our drama.

Timelessly they quake
and protest each fall
but our first.
Like they know what it means!

Left alone they will weep
and all eyes are only for our dust
that dresses them up
as they once dressed us.


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