ODE TO MY FLIP FLOPS

Look at you, my beauties. We’ve sure seen some miles.
Seeing the worn spots, my wrinkles break into smile.

The leather rubbed away in places, the soles paper thin.
Can you remember, dear friends, all the places we’ve been?

Living in my tote bag or waiting patiently by the door.
Simply sliding my feet into your comfort sends me straight to my core.

You’ve been tossed into scratched gray bins going through TSA.
(I apologize now for the looks you received at x-ray.)

New jobs, homes, and countries, and several oceans of blue,
Mardi Gras parades, concerts, goat races, and of course, walking Elvis too.

You’ve seen me through highs and lows, my dearest old friends,
Slipping you on for a walk always makes my heart mend.

My closet has housed boots, dock shoes, slippers, and stiletto heels.
But it is you, my ratty and worn flip-flops, that give me the feels.

Some of those shoes were expensive, money I shouldn’t have spent,
But oh, my darlings dearest, to have you, I’d pay a mint.

You can see they are my favorites, as evidenced by wear,
When they finally give out, I’ll be bereft. They’ve been rare.

Because who finds flips flops like these? They’re not Rainbows or Clarks.
Nope, just some trusted old friends with a place in my heart.