Lovingly, she gazes, with a softness
In her eyes; her smiling pink lips doth part
Tenderly, as though in a state of bliss.
Catching sight of a flash, her brown eyes dart–
They look to the right with a fading smile…
She knows she’s caught, now she’ll be forced to choose
Just one, be torn between her desires.
“How easy it was,” she thought, “when I used
To have no choice, there was but one, just one;
Simplicity was good, I gave it up,
Now I’m here not knowing what must be done
With that which runneth over, ’tis my cup!”
Deep breath, eyes closed, she makes her move,
With a pirouette, smiles, “This shoe will do!”
The shoe, it sits in silence on its shelf,
Waiting to be picked up and worn and loved;
It knows its beauty casts a coloured spell.
She can’t resist, she will wear it and strut.
It lends her height, it lends her some more grace,
Elongates legs and makes her look divine.
The shoe, it puts a smile on her sweet face
Until she sees another and says, “Mine!”
Her shoe closet is much taller than her
So stepstools are kept nearby and handy.
“I love all my shoes, none do I favour.”
“With shoes I’m five-seven, five-two, five-three.”
She said to “Your collection is too much!”
“Til I have them all–hush! It’s not enough.”
[Dedicated to my aunt, the best of her kind, who told me she’d had just about enough of all the seriousness here and insisted I write something in a lighter vein, more representative of me than darkness. Dedicated also to her sister, my mother, who enjoys playing Devil’s advocate to my bright ideas, frustrating me to the extent that I end up writing something better, just to show her that I can.]