What could I do,
Without you, my cobbler?
For, as a shoe,
I was but a hobbler.
All tied up with lace,
But somehow not whole,
‘Til I saw your face,
And you fixed my sole.
A beginning is little, but as it bears blossoms
It grows in to greatness, and makes it’s mark known
E’en tales told for ages, inspiring and awesome
Must start as seeds rooting, until they’re full grown