I used to hate those shoes,
those dirty, earth-beaten shoes.
Their holes and their flaps
scream of a time
when they were crisp and new.

I used to hate those shoes,
those ragged, time-shredded shoes,
but now I can see
they're pillows, they're clouds
when they are on
your feet.

I used to hate those shoes,
those ceaseless, hole-ridden shoes.
I'm sorry if that ever meant
that I was hating you.