Shoes Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

I bought a pair of shoes at a second hand shop,
I have rather big feet it is difficult to get new
shoes in Portugal as the biggest number is
44 while I use 45. My ears are big too, but since
I don´t wear earrings it does not matter.
Then I learned the previous owner had suddenly
died and his widow had sold off his belongings.
Since knowing this, sometimes it is better to be
ignorant, I stopped wearing the dead man´s shoes.
What do I know the footwear might feel rebellious
and take an unwanted step into oncoming traffic.
I put them under the bed in the spare room
where they collect dust of time. But I´m kind hearted
should a tramp come begging I´ll give him the shoes