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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1935804
A nice comfortable shoe.
When you’re on my feet I walk the street
and I know that you are mine;
I stride along and I sing a song
and my toes are feelin’ fine.
You once were separate leather parts
assembled in Beijing;
When I feel your nifty arch support
I am walking like a king.
I will not walk--without my shoe;
my nineteenth new, New Balance shoe.

Oh I favor you from the other shoes
cause the other shoes aren‘t right;
and if I compete without you on my feet
my metatarsals get uptight.
You have a tongue and steely eyes
where laces find their way;
my heel and soul look out for you
when I begin the day.
My feet will balk--without my shoe;
my nineteenth new, New Balance shoe.

  (You seem to know, that comfort below,
  will translate to less pain in my back,
  yet my wife objects to you the sack...
  thank--you--new--shoe!)

So I take my step with much more pep
in a shoe I bought at Sears;
and I feel good tinge in a lower hinge
like my ankle has new gears.
You are so white right from the box
with risen emblem en;
when I get out of bed my feet
will welcome you again.
First my tube sock--and then the shoe;
my nineteenth new, New Balance shoe.


34 Lines
Writer's Cramp
May 30, 2013







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