These Sandals

I needed you one summer,

And so I searched,

Finally arousing the perfect pair,

Carelessly slumbering on a low rack,

In the cave of a shop.

Since then,

Treads have been ground away like zest,

From the rubber of your patterned soles,

And over the years,

Straps have been pulled like reins,

Embroidery has frayed and split,

Feet have cut deep.

I still have the two same assistants,

But they are tired,

Worn out,

Slipped on and off,

Kicked and jumped and thrown,

In many dejected corners.

They have been subjected to

Concrete, grass, and mud,

All manner of heat and hardship-

Lately they seem despondent,

Unloved and used,

Less fancy and proud as my other

Shoes that parade their relationship

With me proudly to parties.

And they there like two raggedy servants,

But I hope they know,

That no other sandals compare,

No other summer shoes

Have I taken out so much,

Chosen to display-

They are my most carefree relationship,

Not demanding of maintenance,

Or the type to get too serious.

Sage

7-24-12