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.

Painting My Canvas


Staring at the blank page of the canvas,
I decide which colors to pick.
Should it be crimson to show rage,
Or blue to say that I’m cosmic?
Should it be white to show purity,
Or yellow to say I’m optimistic?
Should it be orange to show passion,
Or grey to say that I’m psychotic?
Should it be pink to show my feminine side,
Or black because sometimes I’m a dark trick?
Should it be violet to show my enthusiasm,
Or green because it makes me tick?

Let me get all the colors,
And splatter them at once.
Let’s see what pattern they make!
What person they create!
Coz even if it doesn’t come out right,
I could always say that I ‘tasted’ all the flavors.
And for me,
It will always be –