Shoe Fetish
My great cousin set great store by shoes,she would sigh and despair
when I returned after a term at school
with scuffed leather
and torn canvas.
I loved my great cousin but not her
quest to find the perfect shoe,
I liked cycling down hills
on a bike with no brakes
just using the heel,
those were my bruise
covered days
my hockey shins
and being the fastest on the field.
My great cousin was a city creature,
she boiled water several times over,
'water is just recycled pee'
we used mineral water
to wash our teeth
and she abhored
what she called my froggie roots
by buying a tartan kilt complete with safety pin.
Companions of enforced holiday stays,
she taught me that sticking a
small finger out over a tea cup
was decidedly infradig
My great cousin had a fetish for shoes
and great love in her soul,
she took in a semi orphaned child
into her ordered life
and gave me wisps of chocolate
and history and old fashioned manners
and a wicked sense of humour
'we don't tolerate fools
and brown shoes with blue suits'
sucking in her breath
'just doesn't do'
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2015-10-30 at 20:37
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