My wife's new pink slippers <br />have gay pompons. <br />There is not a spot or a stain <br />on their satin toes or their sides. <br />All night they lie together <br />under her bed's edge. <br />Shivering I catch sight of them <br />and smile, in the morning. <br />Later I watch them <br />descending the stair, <br />hurrying through the doors <br />and round the table, <br />moving stiffly <br />with a shake of their gay pompons! <br />And I talk to them <br />in my secret mind <br />out of pure happiness.<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-thinker/
