The Old Shoe Will Not Do
The love of your life
Tells you she’s had it;
The old shoe will not do.
She’s grown, easily, a size or two,
Although you’re still a standard 10,
Despite stretching this way and that—
Anything to try and make due,
Expand the loafers you’ve worn
For the past thirty-five years.
You’re still a bit perplexed,
Wondering how her feet have grown,
Taken on such added length,
When the rest of her appears
Identical in all other aspects;
At least, as far as you can see.
You ask around town,
But no one offers a clue.
They just hum and haw,
Oblivious to your predicament.
Meanwhile, she’s left the marital bed,
Explaining her toes are now too big,
And rub against the footboard,
So she’s far more comfortable
Spending the night in the spare room.
Yes, you’ve come to believe,
It’s simply a matter of time
Before she’ll leave the house,
Step out into the wide world,
Find a proper fit elsewhere.
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