I don't want your shoes

They walked into my life
and they took me aback:  
a beautiful pair  
of low Converse in black.  
But these ones were special—  
I could see from afar  
that they'd been embellished  
with many a star.  
As we sat down to talk  
of her travels from Fleet,  
I thought about how  
they would look on my feet.  
"Ha ha, they won't fit you,"  
she cried in delight.  
I'd have to squeeze in,  
but I think that they might!  
I thought I could try them  
while my sister assisted,  
but as she had bought them,  
my sister resisted!  
I thought I could steal them    
at a time opportune—  
maybe she'd fall asleep,  
but it was just afternoon.  
Unfortunately,  
she was off to our mother's,  
so I did not have time  
to exchange them for others!  
As the shoes walked away,  
I was feeling bereft  
but then happened to notice  
down there on the left,  
sitting proud on the shoe rack  
(beneath all the coats)  
a pair of my trainers  
all covered in notes.  
Just right for a muso,  
they contain a real piece:  
a bit from the Bagatelle  
named 'Für Elise'.  
So, I'll say to my sister,  
"I'll no longer moan!  
I don't want your shoes—  
I have some of my own!  
I have no need for Converse  
costing sixty-five quid!  
I don't want..."  
Oh, who am I trying to kid?!