Woman Who Wanted A Shoe

This poem is dedicated to +Adrianna Joleigh

Woman Who Wanted A Shoe

There was a young woman who wanted a shoe.

She started with one, and then she bought two.

With each one she bought, she had to make room.

She cleaned out some space and swept with her broom.

The footwear collection grew so immense,

she added an annex surrounded by fence.

She stacked her moccasins, mukluks and mules,

"Out of my way, I'm shoe hunting, fools!"

She adored sling-backs, slippers and sneakers.

She loved a good pair that'd stun anyone's peepers.

She loved to climb hills in sling-backs and heels.

She'd rather be found in footwear than riding on wheels.

She drew the line at work boots and waders,

those for labor or searching for 'gators.

The shoe fetish's growth was exponential.

The footwear collection reached full potential.

She proudly displays them for mankind to view.

She’ll let you adore them if you donate a shoe.

A Long

PHoto: By Sheila Thomson from London, England (Flickr) Lagguage Shoe by Christian Louboutin

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Someone asked, "What would your life be without color?" I answered, "My life would be pallid and pale without color. Each day would be drab, dreary and dismal. There'd be no primary colors, no rainbows, no yellow sunshine, no red-blue-yellow sunsets and no white clouds. No white snow or black storm clouds. I'd walk in an indistinct and neutral existence. No green trees, no green grass, no blue seas, no blue skies, would leave me cheerless and dry. My face would not turn red with anger or embarrassment. My face would not turn white with fear or pain. I'd not grow green with envy. Nothing would be just black and white. My life would be full of motionless emotion, if there were no color. © 2013 ajwrites57 Image URI: http://mrg.bz/fwDYZp Image URI: http://mrg.bz/g6haeq By Hairysuncold Please find my other writings on Hub...

old friends

old friends searched online for former friends surprised to see untimely ends friends, their spouses, moms and dads sad to see the deaths they had the inexorable tick and tock of time, leads us all to fields, sublime through twisting, turning hands of fate, soon we'll all be known as "late" years roll on, time is passed no one knows how long it lasts each life is counted out by days as friends we oft go separate ways friend's faces show the lines of age as each one turns his separate page fools fleeting time waits for no man eighty years our lives may span so count your days with special care for who knows how, who knows where our beating hearts will one day stop find old friends before they drop © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Image adapted: By SDRandCo via morguefile.com

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