Red Shoes

working evenings at the coffee house
washing dishes to earn my keep
scrubbing dirt from the tiled floors
all for a stipend and place to sleep

mistress mine visited often
looked at us with kind eyes
paid our wages to the cents
fed us well once a month

my fifteenth birthday was a good day
I was healthy and had a dollar
in my little black handbag
adorned with the face of Donny Osmond

My mistress gave me her red shoes
with many a wear left in in
I wore  them proudly for a day
the three inch heels were painful

a friend borrowed it for a date
and wore it better than me
she had fun on the dance floor
dancing around with my red shoes

on the way home a dog got free
from the owners fence
chased her right to the door
she ran fast without my shoes

up and down the lane next day
we looked diligently for my red shoes
but never did we find them
and they remained lost up to this day

o' red shoes red shoes
I wonder if you were picked up
and owned by another like me
who loved you and kept you

without wear and tear.


*this poem was entered in a competition here. thank you for reading*