How to say I love you
sans roses, violets red and blue?
Dare I declare you are
my best old pair of shoes?
For a poem, I called to Shakespeare’s ghost
Turns out he’s sleeping late
I hoped Byron or Keats might write a gem
but I can’t afford their rate
So, I scribbled what I could
with my stiff and feeble hands
of how I love you so
with my heart and with my glands
*sigh*
You see, no talent do I own
to name my truest love
I say you’re like snug shoes
They are, like you, all I think of
Nothing matters more than shoes
when worlds turn bitter cold
Pricey footwear thrills me not
Good shoes fit best when old
My shoes are there for me
at times I need them most
I’ll never trade old shoes away
for new ones – that’d be gross!
I need, I want, I love my shoes,
the perfect well-worn pair
I’ll love Shoe Ping the more
we tramp on through our years