One Shoe

An abandoned shoe

Still warm

Sharp steps echo across wide halls.

Distant humming

Lots of space no one calls.

Inside. Two chairs are set always a light on.

The sound of crickets,

Buzzing vigorously

Appearing loudest before dawn

Maddening almost.

Close

Knocks on the front door.

Almosts. Could be...

Opening it. Revealed.

Visions.

Of.

What there always was.

A shoe.