She's learned to her cost that a new pair of shoes
is a thing that she ought to avoid, even when it
appears a temptation too hard to refuse,
in the form of Louboutin or Blahnik or Bennett.
She sprained both her ankles in high platform sandals;
her first winkle-pickers deformed every toe.
Stilettos caused bunions the size of jug handles,
while fireflies all envy the way her corns glow.
Her feet have been bent into tortured contortions;
some toes now grow sideways while others turn under.
She now wears big Ugg Boots to hide the distortions
at which her chiropodists goggle in wonder.
She's ruined her feet in the name of High Fashion
by following Style to its last, costly letter,
a slave to her reckless pedalian passion.
New shoes might be good; but new feet would be better.