My Flaming Converse Shoes (Bad Poetry Revised)

I stroke the fabric of your withering all-star frame.

Red, red, red shoes.

And who'd have thought?
I had boring sneakers previously,

Before you.

And then I saw an ad, a colorful array of Converse shoes splayed out upon the page.

Lots of colors, but my eyes could only focus on one pair.

Red. Red. Red shoes.

I took a chance, stepping outside my normal fashion realms.

And suddenly I realized--

Who cared about my disproportionate bony toes,

When enveloped inside a stylish crimson case?
Adorned with

brand

new

fresh

white

laces. Beautiful!

Red, Red, Red shoes.

I remember you dangling beneath me,

On a roller-coaster inside the magic of Disneyland Park, soaring over the mickey mouse hats beneath us.

I remember afternoon walks after a rainy day, when the air is thick and fresh with moisture.

unreservedly we leapt into the joyous wet of a thick mud puddle.

Perhaps the best of all, was when I wore you on a date,

with that handsome young man;

I remember you taking me out on the dance floor,

Pulsing with confidence--Vibrant with flame,

and I didn't care if I wasn't a student at The Pointe! I let my feet fly anyways, graceful or not.

Red, Red, Red shoes.

And here you are now, after all those memories.

Trashy, beat up, worn, and beautiful.

And I'll still wear you, as long as you last,

My flaming converse shoes.