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My Shoes
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Through My Eyes My shoes are tattered,
Ripped and torn,
The soles have holes,
The bottoms worn,
Yet still I walk and wonder why
They are worthless to the heedless eye.
My shoes seem battered,
Bruised and beat,
To the theys that gaze
Upon my feet
Yet still I walk and wonder why
They are worthless to the heedless eye.
A foolish girl,
The fools dare say
For the shoes I choose
To wear each day,
For still I walk and wonder why
They are worthless to the heedless eye.
My shoes are tattered,
Ripped and torn,
The soles have holes,
The bottoms worn,
Yet still I walk and wonder why
They are worthless to the heedless eye.
I found this poem through
I found this poem through random browsing, and really like it. It made me think back, several decades, to college in the seventies, and how the ladies their avoided or resolved the issue of holes in the shoes. Whenever weather permitted (about half the academic year), on that small, very compact campus that surrounded several small hills, a creek, and a lot of lawn; they simply walked everywhere barefoot, or with socks on, but the shoes remained behind.
Starward
What Is Important
is what you think. Cool write. Nice metaphor :D