Shoes

Autumn

I drop my shoes on the floor, they echo through the room. I bend down to put them on, and notice the left one’s laces are shredded. Boots it is.

I put them away, and repeat this process for the next few months.

Summer

I don’t wear flip-flops, they hurt. But today, I did. 

Someone calls my name and I run to pick up my shoes, I had left them on the beach. A wave crashes into the sand as I pick them up. I watch it retreat, revealing my name written on the shore.

Spring

I walk barefoot in the grass, my thin tights the only barrier between me and the soil.  Mary janes discarded by our things, my friends at my side, warm light, the wind picks up.

I think we will never have a day as pretty as this.

I am right. 

Winter

My legs throb as I wade through the snow, toes soaked. I trip and my shoelace tears. No other damage, I think, I’ll fix them when I get home.