My Shoes
My shoes.
My shoes in this life of mine.
Hard to bear in time.
So seemly short in size.
In their heat stink to the skies.
Walks in them around the block
In time I’d rather not clock.
Often hard on my sock.
Wish they were strong like rocks.
At times has feet feel like raw meat
No real treat to seek.
Toils shared they seem to care
As they soil in the wear.
Seems I care not for my shoes
Often wishing the more I should do.
When they soil from added age.
In the trash can will be their cage.
Because of those soles.
Who have worn the holes.
Finding them also as rot.
I'll weep for them not.
Such shoes soon forgot.
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