After your phone call I began to think
a lot about old shoes, you know the kind.
They're in the back corner, behind the sink,
or in the closet, out of sight and mind.
The lined up new shoes all bright and snazzy
take up the most room but don't feel that good.
The logic is lame, thought process hazy,
that comfort and care are trumped by a mood
that says comment and appearance is all,
that it is better to break an ankle,
that it is better to take a hard fall,
than to be warm, protected and thankful.
Old shoes, good enough for around the home,
but hopeful, always, to be worn to roam.