"Why waste your time?
You can pick up slippers at Aldi.
Your're just 'Povo'."
But I'm not.
Poverty is not seeing the workmanship,
The care and love,
That went into his little brother's moccasins.
A goat pelt I tanned,
From a kid I raised,
That fed our family.
The little foot I measured,
And the leather I softened and stitched.
Little brother was out playing,
With his head band of cockatoo feathers,
His wattle bow and arrow.
The timing was serendipitous.
He loved his new slippers,
Genuine, (except for the source of their leather),
Moccasins. (pattern 'googled' from the net)
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