If the Shoe Fits

wandering eyes gazing upon the bustling crowd,

watching them spin in circles, in array of color.

Down in black across the room,

staring down at worn shoes,

one does wish to dance.

Seconds pass,

minutes,

hours,

till one doth stand in front of the one dressed in black. 

His green mask glows, such an inviting hue, 

kisses thy hand that none knew.

Doth did he guide the one in black, 

to join the colorful parade.

The worn down shoes,

turned to glass,

a rose between lips,

passed and passed.

The one in black did finally laugh, 

but the fun will only last,

if the shoe fits.