Ode to Oxfords

I've worn out two pairs of Oxfords this year. The soles are simply not hanging on any longer. I wear these shoes so much, they are quite abused (and loved). This is how much I love Oxfords, though. There probably isn't a pair of shoes that I wear more than my Oxfords.

The familiar click of the heels on my floor as I grab my tote bag, books, and lunch items for work. The look I wear with dresses, jeans, and skirts. My most-worn shoe, for certain. They have traveled with me over to Oxford, trotting around the cobblestone streets for days on end. It makes sense, then, why I would write a poem about them, right? Especially when both of my pairs are broken and I've gone weeks without Oxfords. (!)

Ode to Oxfords

O, comfort! The air I breathe
and the steps I take can be
so comforted. A ready realm
made for thee -- Oxfords.
Soft, supple leather enfolds my pace.
Feet adorned, trotting the streets.
Weather-worn and tattered-torn,
soles now losing grip on the shoe.
Heavy-laden are my sorrows of loss,
of such good times cherished whilst
Oxfords held my feet.
Alas! Joy shall arrive when new
Oxfords come ready for wear.
In caramel-coloured cheerfulness
thus appear, and the days shall
be grand again with Oxfords upon my feet.