Summer Shoes
Will there ever be a time again,
when a new pair of sneakers,
holds such promise?
So clean,
smelling of rubber, glue,
and somehow,
faintly, clean rain?
Hunted down,
in the forest of cardboard,
crowded shelves,
overflowing with orphaned high tops,
bursting with the newness,
untarnished, and immaturely proud,
the possibility of paths to run, scuffle,
slap slap unworn treads on dark pavement,
marking progress homeward in street lamps,
chased by younger shadows,
paced by fireflies,
quick breath echoed off quiet houses,
now summer's reminder in autumn days.
Copyright © Andrew Foreman | Year Posted 2016
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