Lost Soles

In the stride
The soles begin to hole.
Through the journey
They travel with me
Closer than my diary.
They touch,
Like my eyes can see.
Feel too and Get dirty.
Fresh and clean,
Leaving me high on
Dancing oranges
And Ritzy pinks.
Walk along the starry nights.
And a trail of shimmering lights.
With me silently
Comforting happily
All the time.

~Poetry by Priyanka Daga