Not the poem’s shoes
This poem flaunts no dainty slippers
This poem never warms itself in ugg boots
This poem does not work in steel-caps
This poem can’t totter in stilettos
This poem has not embarrassed in sandals and socks
This poem slaps with no Brazilian thongs
This poem dances in red shoon (but only in dreams)
This poem won’t stomp in black Docs
This poem wears no shoes at all.
But it does go wee wee wee
all through the town.
P.S. Cottier
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| the poem likes this though |
I love the playfulness. (And I also like the shoe pictured, though would never wear it.)
ReplyDeleteMade me smile, even though my days of dancing in high heels are long gone! What is "red shoon"?
ReplyDeleteShoon is an old way of saying shoes, Barbara, I think it's in Burns, too, so perhaps it stayed on in Scots? Someone may know! Perhaps McGoogle.
DeleteGlad you both enjoyed it.
so pleasurable :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Efi.
DeleteI must admit to a certain pleasure in imagining an American reading the 'Brazilian thongs' line.
Ha ha, yes, nice (naughty) double meaning/s.
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