Sorting Shoe Racks

With a crack of his knuckles and the rolling of his sleeves,
The boy rubs his hands together and gets down on his knees.
He grabs each innocent shoe from the defenseless rack,
And heaves them into a pile behind his slaving back.
With relentless determination they are flung into the air,
‘Till every messy shoe is seized and the closet’s bare.
With an unexpected shift, the focused boy turns around,
And begins to pick each mislaid shoe up off the startled ground.
With tender care he searches through the jumble for a twin,
Then sets the pair softly down and sneaks a tiny grin.
Minutes slowly sneaking by, the boy goes fervently on,
‘Till each wayward shoe is found; a masterpiece is drawn.
He looks down lovingly at the rack, his job here now is done,
Now he’s free to go and play; the battle has been won.
As days go by and people move, they considerately try to keep,
His perfect rack from turning into its initial cluttered heap.
It’s funny how they never caught on that their efforts were in vain,
Cause he’d just chuck them all, and sort them all, and clean them all again.