Shoes don't wear out now
Like they used to do
My Dad used to repair ours
When we scuffed a hole or two
For we travelled far
On paved street and field
Kicking any balls and stones
And over rough ground untilled
Had to clean them too
Scrub filth and mud gone
Before the polish applied
Then brush, brush, brush, 'til they shone
Those childhood days gone
I'm thankful that's sure
I had shoes with holes that leaked
Wet feet, wet socks and much more
Cherish bygone days
So much they taught me
So many shoes to choose now
And not one hole can I see
Image found at http://raisingchildren.net.au
Aw ... I remember this too. Thankful for the holes, the history and memories, and the too much of things that no longer show how they are made and how they connect people.
ReplyDeleteWhat a eautiful poem.
Beautiful. It gives me an idea for my poem!
DeleteLove the heart that often shone brightly in the bygone days. Dad repairing shoes is so touching a scene.
ReplyDeleteRemember cleaning and polishing my shoes... great memories..
ReplyDeleteOh yes, I remember all of that!
ReplyDeleteI remember too, how the nuns would scold us if our shoes weren't polished, and how my grandfather would send his out for repairs. This is no longer. Loved your poem.
ReplyDeleteOh, now I remember using shoe polish to polish shoes. Now, kids seem have ten pairs apiece, and toss them out when they get a hole. And shoes are so much more expensive now. Things have changed, and not in a good way. Loved your poem.
ReplyDeleteIt's all good when the holes build character later. Nice write Robin
ReplyDeleteMuch love...
Great memories to fall back one. Glad your shoes are 'whole' now😊
ReplyDelete..back on....typo!
DeleteI used to love the smell in our local shoe repair shop, the aroma of leather and shoe polish. People seem to have so many pairs of shoes, which is probably why they don't wear out. My Dr Martens last a lifetime! I remember my dad teaching me to clean my shoes like he did in the army and I had to clean everyone else's shoes every week.
ReplyDeleteYour poem was a lovely reminder, Robin. Thanks!
Even the holes can teach us new things, if we are willing to listen and learn.
ReplyDeleteSo many shoes to choose now
ReplyDeleteAnd not one hole can I see
Those were the testing times. Blessings to be given lots of choices these days
Hank
I see my childhood shoes in yours. :-)
ReplyDelete~Imelda
Thanks for jogging my memory Robin - I remember these days too. I remember the mess I made with that wonderful black wax and the smell of it. I remember the holes too and the wet feet...
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
the art of fashioning shoes .... cobblers. And I really love the way you bring us on the journey - paved streets, fields, balls, stones .... wet socks and toes .... ah yes, these things are priceless.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem :)
Things really have changed. I never had the kind of shoes you bother to repair that were in need of repair before I outgrew them. But I watched my grandparents get theirs fixed.
ReplyDeleteMy own kids will sometimes try to explain stuff like this to me - like the shocking idea that one could my ones shoes look new by polishing - as an historical oddity. I catch myself telling them "I lived it" too often.