• Home

Young Writers Society

Your Shoes

by NivedaJames22

I took down the cob-webbed box,

Off the top of the old wardrobe,

And peeled off the faded tissues,

That I imagine were once pink.


And underneath all the layers

I found the pair of shoes,

The ones I had been looking for,

The ones you used to wear.


Gingerly I stepped into them,

Placing one foot at time,

And looked into the mirror,

And let out a gentle sigh.


I marvel at the way that the shoes

Have aged gracefully,

And how the once pointy aglets

Have mellowed with the passing of days.


Although years have passed

Since I wore them last,

The shoes still tower over me,

The way they did when I was three.


I filled the toes up with tissue,

In an attempt to make them fit

But somehow they still loom large,

Casting their giant shadows over me.


The shoes still make me feel

Like a toddler playing pretend,

Playing at being adult,

Without really having a clue.


And although I should be over this,

I can't help wondering 

If I'll ever, at any point of life,

Be able to fill in your shoes.

Is this a review?



User avatar
36 Reviews

Points: 171
Reviews: 36

Fri May 28, 2021 10:45 pm
JohnKlue wrote a review...

Simple yet Insightfully honest.
I can see this poem in an old storybook from my grandfathers house.
This feels reminiscent of classic poetry and fairytales like "the Selfish Giant" or "The frog prince".
however with the idea of classic children's poems in mind i was slightly bewildered by the lack of rhyme, but this is a mere nitpick.
I am sensing themes of insecurity and the pressures of growing up, or rather the fear of failing to Grow up.

this may speak to children in one way and adults in another, you even seem to keep the age ambiguous...very clever.

NivedaJames22 says...

Thank you!

User avatar
60 Reviews

Points: 1763
Reviews: 60

Fri May 28, 2021 12:17 am
LizzyTyler wrote a review...

Good Morning/Evening/Night!

I really liked this poem! I loved the imagery! The imagery is so real, and it’s hard to find poems with this amount of imagery. Usually poems have inferences, and a tad bit of imagery, but this poem had the same amount of description as a short story! Usually I wouldn’t suggest that much imagery, but I think this poem wouldn’t have the same impact without it.

I liked the message, and feeling the poem has. To me, it seems like sadness, reminiscent, and loss. It seems like the person narrating is remembering a lost mother, most likely, and is mourning her. This feeling is conveyed through the shoes.

The only thing I would do would be to make it rhyme, but I just like it when poems rhyme. But please feel free to ignore this, and continue on with your beautiful poem.

I really liked your poem, and hope to see more of your work around!

Happy writing!


NivedaJames22 says...

Thank you! (:

User avatar
48 Reviews

Points: 303
Reviews: 48

Thu May 27, 2021 6:46 pm
LilPWilly wrote a review...

Well put my good sir🤝
Ma'am, whatever
I love the visual, so clear, of taking the shoe box down, and putting them on in the tall mirror, which I imagine for some reason is just as musty as the shoes.
The gentle sigh.
One thing that is a little jarring is the use of obscure P+F vernacular, if you know what I mean.
On the other hand, frayed tips are a very realistic image, maybe just roll the frayed aglets in her fingers or something to make it more sensual.
Yeah, I think that would be the best advice I could give, add more sensory input, especially touch, the feel of the shoes as she slips them on or something.
Good job, me gusta este mucho, tú pagas mi corazón ♥️

NivedaJames22 says...

Hey LilPWilly!

I have a feeling this is gonna sound really stupid, but I didn't get what you meant by the P F vernancular.

The sensory input is a really good tip; I'll try to incorporate more of it.

Thanks for reviewing! :D

LilPWilly says...

It doesn%u2019t loll, it%u2019s a niche reference: Phineas and Ferb? Aglets?

And on the pedestal these words appear:/'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings;/Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'/Nothing beside remains.
— Percy Bysshe Shelley