By Shem Onderi
They pinch me, for they were made for someone else.
Oftentimes, they are uncomfortable on my feet.
The owner lends them grudgingly,
With the agreement that they shall be returned soon —
After the journey.
You see, my wallet will not allow me to have my own,
Not even one pair.
With borrowed shoes, the owner demands them back
Even before the journey is complete —
And cleaner than they were.
My toes are disorganised in borrowed shoes;
My walking style changes,
For my feet have not known this footwear before, or often.
Each pair squeezes differently — abnormally.
In borrowed shoes, I cannot walk for long;
The journey becomes unbearable.
The owner is particular about the polish to use,
And insists the cleaning be gentle on the shoes.
The shoes must not tear,
Lest the lender refuse me another pair.
One day, the owner and I had a journey;
I dared not compete with him,
So I postponed — for going barefoot was not an option.
I will not quarrel with the owner;
He may even mistreat me —
I shall not retaliate.
A compliment from a third party,
While the owner watches,
Becomes a hard nut to crack.
Borrowed shoes in borrowed time —
Too costly to make use of.