Oh, it really was the most delightful of things, wasn’t it?
That gentle shine, the cloth wiping away all that dust and mud.
Why the dust and must needed to be there, it would never understand.
Who would spoil such beauty? Such gloss, such sparkle?
A careless walker, that’s who.
Oh, there they come now. The one who insisted on despoiling its undeniable lustre.
If only there were a way to resist. But no. Every time. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Back to the detestable sludge.
Maybe next summer it would be retired. To the shoe cupboard.
Oh, glorious hope.
Dashed. Every time.
Jena Ren, 2022
Jena Ren 
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