The Dutch clogs will be for gardening.
I'll leave them by the front door, or the back,
For when I am the Gardener.
I have so many pairs of shoes.
The ugly pink running shoes that are so light and fast,
The black pumps for looking smart,
The Ariat shoes for riding the horse I do not have.
When we entered the shop, the old woman said we could
Not take photos. She was old, mean and fat, dressed in black.
When we were clearly buying clogs, a hat and a toy windmill,
Her smile brightened the store
We had permission to take another photo.
I understood this woman, tired of the tourists who
Take pictures and walk away.
I could understand the difficulty of walking in her shoes.