Hugs, marshmallows, clouds and feathers,
I step upon them
all in all
Hidden inside, afraid to spoil,
woollen woven hooves
snuggled safe from recoil.
Six pairs have I,
though one late dead
from heavy heels and,
thoughts; weighted down my treads.
So five remain, all waiting,
for my toes to enter
like eggs returning to nest
too delicate to wander.
And like a gander I waddle, cocksure,
in my slippers
sure never to feel rough ground or stone
just carpets and fur together are sewn.