The Picori and the Shoemaker
As I slave over these many shoes,
Approaching my deadline.
I start to sloop and start to sleep,
And have dreams quite sublime.
…
I dream of little people,
Working on footwear.
Softly singing, laughing too,
No sign of my despair.
…
No taller than my thumb at all,
See them look up at me.
Then start to fade, go to depart,
Into world I cannot see.
…
And with a start, I am awake,
And see new pairs of shoes.
Dreaming as I work in sleep,
This simply will not do.
…
But still, the job's at last been done,
And I owe it all to me.
Not little figures in my dreams,
Like children's tales, picori.