High Heels
She’s no longer young.
Her calves strain
in tall stilettos.
She carries herself carefully
hips tilted
above a sloping floor.
Something worth preserving
is squeezing sacrificial feet,
and behind the pumps
a life mostly in step
with yesterday.
Something of her style
(no longer fashionable),
still tilts at windmills;
an old school aplomb.
On balance a woman
to admire
for her
unsteady grace,
her resolute bravado.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment