Intimate Poem

Dear shoes,

remember all
the basketball games we played.
All the laps we ran.
You might be worn out
but your still my favorite.

When I got you
you were fresh and new
Look at you now
old and torn.

You might be old
moldy with hair
I think it's time
to get a new pair.

2 comments:

Nels Bergquist said...

Great conversation.

rjacklewis said...

Nice. Shoes can be a good thing. I liked your poem. It's too bad that everything gets worn in the end. Good poem, Andrew.