The shoes were whispering on the stair.
“Did you see it? Did you see
The tall black gates with curlicues?”
The loafers asked, “And peacock’s blues?”
“We see the gold above the door,” exclaimed a shiny pair.
Two moccasins arose to speak.
“Did you feel it? Did you feel
The rough and crunchy crushed up tiles
On every path?” “It seemed like miles,”
Smiled bright red clogs with coal black toes. “Do all your soles feel weak?”
“We saw a wonder,” spoke two heels.
“Did you see it? Did you see
The rosebush and the cactus flower
Content to snuggle, hour on hour?
We’ve never felt a garden feel the way that this one feels.”
Then shoes began to jump and shout.
Tongues were wagging, tongues were flapping.
All the shoes, that is, but two
A well-worn pair of scruffy blue
From whose wet laces, loosely strung, the tears flowed round about.
“My friends,” the shoes began with grace—
The loud tongues slowed. They slowed and stopped—
“If you will join me in a prayer,
The awe and power in the air
Will surely bless us, every one, in such a sacred place.”
Shoes settled in upon the stair—
All was quiet, very quiet—
Waiting for the feet inside
Who, filled with love and shorn of pride,
Would join their friends, their faithful shoes, transforméd, every pair.
Iambic Nana 