NEPHART.COM

On the shoe rack,

one shoe whispered to the other,

“You smell terrible.

When was the last time

you were washed?”

The worn-out shoe laughed softly.

“Of course I smell.

My boss wears me every day.

I have carried his weight

through crowded streets

and lonely roads.

I have walked over cobblestones,

climbed hills,

crossed wet countryside paths.

Dust knows my name.

Rain has slept on my skin.

I have seen stations, markets,

and mornings that arrived too early.

While you…”

The shoe paused.

“You have stayed here

shining on this rack,

waiting to be chosen.

Tell me,

have you ever even felt

the warmth of his feet?”

The sparkling shoe replied proudly,

“Maybe I was not made

for ordinary days.

Maybe I am being saved

for celebrations.

For parties.

For beautiful journeys.”

The old shoe smiled quietly.

Just then,

a hand reached down.

The new shoes were lifted gently

from the rack.

And as they left,

their laces danced in the air

like a small farewell.

The old shoes remained below,

silent, dusty, smiling.

As if they already knew:

even shining shoes

must someday earn their smell.