Ode to the Thumbtack I Never Saw

Oh cruel shard of metal bright,
You hid beneath the morning light.
A silent trap on hardwood laid,
My careless step—your ambush made.

No warning squeak, no gleam, no glint,
Just sharp surprise and pain’s first hint.
My foot came down with full intent,
Then pierced—like fate was heaven-sent.

A gasp escaped, a hop, a shout,
The tack stood proud, its business out.
A single pin with war declared,
Against bare heels so unprepared.

I cursed the floor, the gods, the shoe,
(Though none of them had aught to do).
My pride, impaled, did limp away,
One step behind the rest that day.

So heed this tale of tacks and toes—
Pain often comes in smallish foes.
And though the wound is healed and gone,
My trust in carpets? Still withdrawn.