I am a doormat, stretched on the floor,
Awaiting feet to stomp to my door,
Muddy, bedraggled, they come in rows,
To clean up and freshen, then off they go;
Mat they forget, when safe and secure,
When I am not needed, they simply ignore.
Forever on threshold I lie prone,
Gathering dust, ne'er find a home,
My heart they thrash to beat out clods,
They put me back with pokes and prods.
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