My Favourite Shoes

My Favourite Shoes


New shoes bought at great expense, soft and supple leather,
Sturdy heels with non slip soles, fit for any weather.
One may declare without a doubt
These shoes are surely strong and stout.

Shoes that know just when to dance,  when to walk or run.
Shoes that given half a chance, stride out to have some fun.
They’ll take you where you want to be
And bring you back; or set you free.

Handmade shoes that last for years, and travel many miles,
Crossing bridges, strolling lanes, through the fields, and over stiles.
O’er life’s great map still tramping on
To see the world before it’s gone.

Time marches on, by its side, these shoes keep up the pace.
They’re old and scuffed, down at heel; in fact, a right disgrace.
But throw them out, I could not do
For comfort is a worn old shoe.




"My Favorite Things"	 contest
Sponsored by: farah chamma
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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Murphy Avatar
April 3, 2010 at 9:20 AM
great poem congrats on your win faleshia
Johnson Avatar
April 2, 2010 at 7:06 PM
Great poem. I had thought of shoes as necessities but they certainly qualify as favorite things in this lovely poem. Congratulations. Joyce
Dietrich Avatar
April 2, 2010 at 9:34 AM
A big congratulations to you, Margaret. This was a really fun poem about shoes and you covered every inch of the shoe's "sole" LUv ya, Andrea
Sweetheart Avatar
April 2, 2010 at 5:33 AM
Big Congrats Margaret on your 2nd place win in Farah's contest.. an excellent write and choice for a winning poem ..enjoy your trip to the winners circle and celebrate your special victory..luv.. Linda-Marie..
Kelly Avatar
April 2, 2010 at 1:00 AM
Know exactly what you mean , Margaret and well done on your great presentation and win ....
Dietrich Avatar
February 21, 2010 at 9:39 PM
Margaret, I have to laugh when I read this. I have probably forty pairs of shoes, and half of them look like CRAP. that's because I am VERY hard on shoes and my feet sweat too (oh, my goodness, the smell of my gym shoes could kill you). These poor shoes of yours would probably wither right on my feet. Luv ya, Andrea
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