Mystery of the Shoe
Mystery of the Shoe
Dad, I love my old brown shoes with their lace-up strings.
They feel good, and they should
For I wear them everywhere.
You remember them. I’m sure you do.
They have five eyelets on each side,
You always remind me to keep them tied.
Dad, I have a question about these old shoes—
One string always works short.
How does this happen? It was okay yesterday.
It makes me work it back again,
Pull slack from top to bottom and up the other side.
No one seems to know what causes this. Do you?
Perhaps it will always be the mystery of the shoe.
Note-- This always happened to me as a kid, and now as an adult it still occurs.
Does anyone have the answer?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
