An ode to the sock-boot

So here he is,
My fabulous friend –
The sock-boot.
It feels like centuries ago
When we got acquainted for the first time.
I fell for his white sporty socks ,

For his lean and mean silhouette,
For his needle-heel
Went piercing right through my heart –
Ah, the luxurious kind he was!
Oh how many innocent shoe souls…erm, soles…
Fell into oblivion for my feeble attempts
To recreate the wonder

Of our brief but magical encounter,
Yet with every attempt he seemed to grow distant,
Like a sweet memory,
Like a lover in a foreign country.
And they stared and laughed,
Baring their rusty nail teeth and gooey glue guts –
Those tortured and ripped shoes –
My Frankenstein monsters,
Yes they laughed!
The image of him –
Dim yet recurrent
Has haunted me with dreadful persistency,

He – the nuisance ghost,
The shape-shifting chameleon!
Now here he is,
My marvellous friend –
The sock-boot!
He’s got it all:
The almond toes,
The sleek high heels,
The delicate elastic brims,
The colour of the troubled sky.
Forevermore he’s mine mine mine!


Post a Comment