a poem by Nancy Ellen Crossland, USA

We always thought it a little odd
When visiting Auntie Pru
She only wore upon her feet
Just one shoe,

When asked about the missing slipper
She shooed the question away
Bringing out a platter of lemon bars
She'd proudly display,

Her place was bright
Neat as a pin
She often just quietly sat
With a wide contented grin,

So, Auntie Pru
We did love you
Even though you sported
Just a lone shoe!

Nancy Ellen Crossland

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