Ode to My Shoes
Autumn is the time of year I develop a major case of closet angst. When it comes to getting rid of shoes, it’s difficult to decide which are bound for shoe heaven.
If I haven’t worn them in five years, it is a safe bet they need to retire. Many, worn to a state of disgrace, have been waiting for an appropriate replacement. These are destined for a trip to the dumpster under the cover of darkness.
All my shoes have their own story and to honor those that will be joining the Goodwill bag, I dedicate the following:
Stilettos make me teeter on my big unsteady feet.
Black yoga flip-flops keep time to the beat.
My Donna Karan sandals, pricey though they were,
I feel no shame.
The Uggs, they are a knockoff,
My Wellingtons the same.
Both came from Target,
I’m way ahead of the game.
Black suede toners,
caused much pain.
My old fuzzy blue mules,
a reward for my gain.
Tacky blue swim shoes warned,
“Watch out for the newbie”.
Top-siders, Rocket Dogs, white Skeechers,
Hey maybe I’m still groovy.
Gold sandals, mary janes, ballet flats ,
Oh, gee I think I’m hot.
Ankle boots and loafers scream,
Oh, but you are not!
Categories: Biased, Unbalanced and Politically Incorrect
I am a lifelong Southerner, short story author, and essayist. Home is Dallas, Texas.
My essays have appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, The Dead Mule School of Southern Writing.