The Shoes

The man was quite lost, and the man was confused,

so the man chose to go, but the man left his shoes.

And the girl sat in shock and encircled by fear,

but she would just smile and not cry her tears.

The girl kept on going but could not ignore

those brown leather shoes that he’d left by the door.

Yet the girl laughed and smiled and waved to the crowd,

because No One would love her if she cried too loud.

Her act was convincing and truly first class,

but all the hard work made the girl turn to glass.

Somehow, no one noticed; we each bear our crosses,

so people just worry about their own losses.

That glass girl kept shining, though the man was long gone.

And one day, a boy came and he tried the shoes on.

The shoes were too big, but the boy shuffled ‘round.

Some Grease got him started, and soon he had found

that the girl was so pretty. so fragile. so clear.

So he told her the things she’d been dying to hear.

“I promise that I will not break you.” he said.

“I will just hold your hand, and I’ll kiss your forehead,

and we’ll be together and you can just cry.”

The glass girl smiled wide, but her eyes were still dry.

Dry as the ocean, yet dry as a drought.

She wanted to, but she could not let it out.

The boy loyally wore those brown shoes that he’d found,

but they just did not fit and they made a clunk sound.

And the girl loved the boy but she hated the noise

of the brown leather shoes that were not the boy’s.

So she banished the boy, and then called him back,

then again made him Go! and the sky turned black.

All that she needed was to hold the boy’s hand,

but the shoes call the shots and the shoes’ orders stand.

And once the boy left her, then nothing else mattered.

The glass girl—she tripped over the shoes, and she shattered.