Upon my sole you do tred,

as I shine a ruby red,

when my leather gets a scuff,

you give to me a gentle buff.


I protect your toes from muddy fate,

and warm your feet on chilly slate,

I keep your bridge from falling down,

and whisk you all about the town.


Then it happened, I got a stain,

now in the closet I remain,

hidden behind some forgotten junk,

flung into an old dirty trunk.


Now some other shoe hugs your feet,

as you saunter down the street,

I thought there was more to our love,

we fit so snug, like hand in glove.


By: Beverly Beekmans (2010)