This poem was the result. The first two lines are P.T. Wyant's. The rest is mine. :)
How did Lady Angeline’s shoe
Come to be in chandelier?
She never liked that shoe
Perhaps she kicked it into the air
Mayhap an unsuitable prince came a-courting
He’ll find no spare on this lady fair
Or maybe it’s just the latest fashion
To dangle a shoe in mid-air?
Perhaps it’s a form of protest
Hanging her slipper there
Only the lady knows the truth
Or perhaps she doesn’t care
She just watches the reaction of every guest
Poised, not turning a hair
A secret smile playing on her face
While the shoe dangles all the way up there.
Whatever happened to the other half?
When once it was part of a pair?
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