Socks, Rocks, And Birkenstocks

They're curled up tight, they're painted white,
The toes fit in the socks just right.

They're pink and purple, green and blue,
The checkered socks inside her shoes.

They're tan, they're slip-ons, soft like suede,
The comfy clogs for lazy days.

They're a duet, her Birkenstocks,
The pair treads through the parking lot.

They're sometimes jagged, sometimes round,
The gray-black stones upon the ground.

They're slightly sharp and cold like stone,
The rocks inside the parking zone.

Little pebbles, checkered socks,
Parking lots and Birkinstocks.

*just a random poem i wrote! did it turn out okay?