My Tattered Shoes

I was given a pair of shoes as a gift.
For me, they were a perfect fit.
A new found happiness for a child unrestrained,
Rejoicing and dancing, as if heavens just rained.

Adorned they were by a few holes in them,
From where the colors of sunshine peeped in.
Uncomely they were for the eyes outside.
But for me, they were nothing less than true pride.

I could walk anyway I wanted
Ebullient, I was the least daunted.
But those shoes, they defied society’s yardstick.
And so I discarded them for a “fancy” pick.

I walked the way I was taught.
Even when I was clearly fraught.
My countenance did betray the thoughts within.
But I was not the one to give in.

Following a toy soldier, I tried to stand undefeated.
Carrying the load I was clearly heat treated.
But never did I lose my sangfroid.
Even when I was awfully annoyed.

But now after all these civilized years,
And all these unperturbed tears,
I yearn for those tattered shoes,
Which aptly taught me the ones and twos.

So when you see my composure wail,
Or when my steps are frigid and frail,
Remind me of my tattered shoes,
And I’ll be dancing and singing the blues.
‘Cause I’m sure I can pay all my dues
When I’m truly in my own tattered shoes.

They Miss You!

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That big old tree with twisted branches,
Which once held you tight when you swung.
That room of yours where no one passes,
Which saw your first paintings hung.

Those arrogant little squirrels,
Whom you chased on your four.
That aura created by your giggles,
Which used to smile and ask for more.

Those swollen walls with greenish texture,
Which used to shine by your absurd scribblings.
That abandoned corner of the terrace,
Which silently shared your crudest feelings.

Miss you a lot, these innocent things.
Need you a lot, these silent things.
Come back and pay them a visit
Coz sometimes they can do
What people won’t do.