When I was very little
My grandmas (there were two)
Always wore the same black kind
Of ugly grandma shoes.
You know the kind I mean, right?
The clunky lace-up kind
That looked so very awful?
Well, it weighed upon my mind
For I knew, when I grew old
I’d have to wear those shoes.
I’d think of that, from time to time
It seemed like such bad news.
Not being a rebel, I
wore saddle shoes to school,
Next came ballerinas
then sandals, pretty cool.
Then came spikes with pointed toes
Then platforms, very tall.
As each new fashion came along
I wore them, one and all.
But always, in the distance,
Looming in my future there
Was that awful pair of shoes,
The kind that Grandmas wear.
Eventually I got married
And then became a Mom
My kids grew and grew, and then
Grand kids came along.
And when I was a Grandma
It still was quite a scare
Thinking that those clunky shoes
Were what I’d have to wear.
But fashions kept evolving
And one day I realized
That the shape of things to come
Was such a great surprise
Cause now when I go shopping
What I see fills me with glee
And in my jeans and Reeboks
I’m comfy as can be.
And I look at these teenage girls
And there, upon their feet
Are clunky, black, old Grandma shoes.
Now that’s what I call neat.
Author Unknown
