When I was a toodler at the age of three
I lost my shoes on the way to the nursery
Mum was angry 'cause the costs were high
only money for food, not for shoes to buy.
So she looked for a ragman to get me a pair,
Shoes which were worn but she couldn't care.
With holes in the sole and rain as their charge;
shoes which were thousand miles too large.
But still I could wear them and go round about;
the bigger size made me a little bit proud.
A childish thing – think of my age – surely true.
But at the age of three we had better to do
than to notice each other, comparing the look;
for our story was told in the very same book.
Hunger and violence and shadows at night,
but inbetween days with sunny delight.
We all grew up and some took their chance,
became taylors, teachers, even lived in a manse;
Some found their truelove or maybe not;
A few went to strange places and might be forgot,
'cause we never saw them come back to their place.
Some others betrayed their own human race;
a bad behavior was their main attribute,
they worshiped only themselves absolute.
Our shoes we were wearing as the time passed by
they didn't fit any longer and we all know why.
From time to time we had to get us some new:
Variable designed in brown, red or blue.
Made of fine leather, canvas or else you could find -
no matter what, the footprints we left behind,
we lost them in lifetime, they simply faded away.
Like my toddler-shoes. But my prints surely will stay.