If I were shoes…

If I were shoes, I’d like to wear your feet,
For everywhere you walked I’d be complete.
My inner soles would hold the soles of you
Where spirit souls would find a near way through.
Then by the buds of morning would we pass,
I, below, and up above, my lass.
Now say not sixty-three’s no lass to me—
You’re but a girl young of heart, as I
Am just a youth of youngest poetry
Who’ll walk with you all days until I die!
But were I ear-rings swinging from your ears,
Or pencil that you held to write a note,
Or glasses that en-framed your glad/sad tears
When felt you Chopin through your heart-strings float,
Still would I envy your devoted shoes,
Which go where e’er you go and never lose!

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