• These are my summer shoes, the summer shoes so old,
    that they’ve stopped just short of growing mold.
    These are the shoes I wore on my feet
    when we walked and talked and ate our ice cream down the street.
    The shoes with the permanent soft serve stain,
    the shoes that observed the ocean and the rain.
    These shoes are where the sand grains stay,
    and the shoes I used when I chose to play.
    I wore these shoes when I went to the store, bought as much as I could carry,
    then went back and bought some more.
    I wore these shoes to the water park,
    where I went on the slides until the sky grew dark.
    These are the shoes that stink and smell,
    but they carry the memories I love so well.