My black shoes.
My shiny, black patent shoes.
My full-back black shoes.
My lean-heeled black shoes.
My higher-than-high black shoes.
They are special, my black shoes.
Look at me, they say.
My glamorous black shoes.
I stand tall in them.
I feel majestic in them.
They hold me at the top of the stairs,
poised to convey me down
and make a graceful entrance.
My inky, ebony black shoes.
One last look at the way they elongate my legs.
One last look at their gleaming, resplendent beauty,
before I remove them
and walk barefoot downstairs.
They will not throw me headlong today.
My killer black shoes.
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