Morgan Michaels


The New Shoes - Poem by Morgan Michaels

Everytime I wear my new, good shoes
Doesn't it just rain?
And I don't mean pennies from heaven.

It rains- pardonnez- it pours
over the under toes and soles of my
Expensive, good, new shoes.

It doesn't matter what the news may say
A propos precipitation,
If I so much as don them- thunderation,

Down, down, down it comes
Beginning with a spatter,
Turning soon into a very- -serious matter;

Whether they be loafers, like their wearer
Or if they've laces;
Oxfords, made of suede, or

patten leather, as the case is,
black, maroon or just plain blue,
It's irrelevant, if I've spent

Over a day's pay on 'em,
Parapluie o non; so,
Whether they come from Sims

Or Lord and Taylor, maybe,
Off the racks at Saks
Or lowly Army Navy,

Down, down, down it comes
I'm just letting you know
(Actually it's scary)
Whenever I wear my old, new shoes.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Poem Edited: Thursday, May 23, 2013


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