Boots the poem

Unwanted,  the choice of colour, texture and design.
Wanting only shiny black. Shine, permanent shine
More shine  with a duster and some spit
Who says too old, too expensive
made in China?
Disdainful remarks from so called loved ones.
A serious work of art say perfect strangers
bewitched.
Are they ?
The rest?
Entranced, seasons and weather duped
It can rain and snow on my parade!
From the bouncing book they protect
The feet
the vital fashion accessory
and fun I say.
To complement with sparkles,
leggings, 10 denier, thick ribbed or dainty ankle socks;
let’s not discuss.
They cycle, drive and walk – I know  
All day with cushion tread they say.
It is for me to gaze and spit
and wish they wear well and not beyond repair.