by Gilbert Keith
The following is the best I could come up with in a span of 2 hours minus some time spent listening to BBC radio or looking at AMC questions.
Please comment/crib/criticize. Note that rhyme, meter, and other minor technicalities do not matter to me.
When the time comes
To discard my pair of shoes; that pair,
Which has rendered the service of
Protecting my feet from the elements,
Hot, cold, rough and prickly; so faithfully,
So ceaselessly; I cry a little on inside.
My immediate reaction is to cling on to them
Just like they do so well unto me.
However, times change, needs change, fashion changes,
And after listening to reason, I do not
Feel guilty about parting.
After all, I have something to look forward to:
A new pair of shoes and, consequently,
A new relationship.
Before I make this big leap,
New questions arise. What do I need in a new pair?
Tennis shoes? Running shoes? Formal shoes?
Slip-ons? Boots? Leather? Moccasins?
About one thing I am certain:
My shoes won’t cost three hundred dollars.
With the parameters so carefully established
I set out on a quest.
I am introduced to a plethora of shoes.
Some I try because my mother wants me to.
Those I tend to dislike,
For her choices tend not to flow with the stream.
Some I like upon first sight.
The looks, the brand, the fashion – It’s just what I want.
After trying them on, however, it becomes
Apparent that we aren’t meant to be together.
They don’t meet my fussy needs; they
Aren’t wide enough at the toes; my left foot
Hurts; they aren’t
Good for my flat feet. Whatever.
Time to try a new pair.
I secretly hope that this is THE one,
For I can’t bear the prospect of rejecting another.
By and by, I try several pairs. Many thanks
To industry for providing so much
Choice. After what seems like an eternity
Of trying and rejecting and repeating that process
I almost call it a day when
I am coaxed into trying a last pair.
This might be the pair, my parents tell me.
And so I listen,
Having no say in that matter.
And Lo! As I try them on, I get this feeling
Of warmth and fuzziness. The contours
match those of my feet.
Eh, it may be a very slightly
Loose on the right foot, but I can bear that
(For, you see, by this time, I realize
That Plato was right
In saying that the perfect shoe belongs to a higher realm.)
I walk around, gauging the comfort they offer.
I stand in front of a mirror,
To see how they add to my appearance.
After a few minutes, I say unto my parents
That they meet my criteria!
It’s decided then, that I am to purchase this pair
And they will force me to try no more,
For they have their own
Interests to pursue.
We then proceed to the sales counter
And I feel slightly elated,
After accomplishing this task.
This is the cycle I repeat about once every year.