New Shoes Poem by Mary Champion

[A memory from early childhood.]

I remember walking through the woods,
crisp brown leaves crunched underfoot.
Autumn then, but sun shone bright,
bathing trees in golden light.
Mum was buying eggs, that day,
brown-shelled eggs, all freshly laid.
I remember studying my shoes
brown as eggs and just as new,
neatly buttoned straps enthralled -
Mary-janes, I think they're called.
I didn't know that then; how sad,
for that's my name. I'd have been glad
to have a shoe named just for me.
How exciting would that be?
But what enthralled me, most of all
was something round and very small
that filled my child's heart with delight.
Its golden eye winked warm and bright
as if to share the utter bliss
I felt as I considered this:
the focus of my gaze and pride,
one tiny button on each side.