My Shoes

'I wouldn't like to be in your shoes',
This woman contemptuously said,
What's the matter with my shoes,
They've stood me in good stead.

My flat ones take me walking,
Over many a hill and dell,
My sandals, when the weather's fine,
Quite frankly! do the same as well!

My boots, keep my feet nice and warm,
When the snow is on the ground,
And my high heels lift my spirits up,
When I am party bound.

'I wouldn't like to be in your shoes',
She sang out spitefully,
Of course she wouldn't, she takes a big size seven,
And I only take a small size three.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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