Cobbler

The battered shoe I held in my hand
Leather aged, shredded threads flowing-
My needle moved in and out swift.
Darned, I held the shoe out-

The foot slid in and he walked away
Never noticing the trace of blood,
Oozing from my punctured fingers.

Nor did I let him know-
I had seen his calloused feet,
That never did fit in,
Perfect.