Shoelaces

Curious inkblots
Could not compare to the lips of my shoes
Had you ears for inanimate objects,
Lessons could be taught.

The dirtiest part of my shoes,
The shoelaces: tattered but strong;

These shoes, the same shoes
My mother used to tie
When ten fingers were ignorant with time.

But as I grew,
So did my shoes,

And I wore them well, at that.

I can still see the crooked lines
Laid across the worn-out floor.

The soles started to break loose,
Because I ran, too often, from my past.

But given a little glue,
They can keep out the dirt and sand.

This last knot, here;
Stands for all the bad times

When I took the wrong turns
And even, sometimes, made a loop

Although it does not look good on my resume,
I have learned to accept my mistakes with reason.

I would not trade these shoes,
Not even for the world.

Since I took my first steps,
It was these shoes that got me through the door.

White Nikes sound pretty flashy,
But these shoes, they tell my story:

For as much time as I wasted on the floor,
They picked me up when I fell.