Shoes.

I have only four pairs,
Only four pairs in all.
One set for running
One set for working
The set that I wore
On the day that I had my fall.
The boots that gravity scratched
That the curb vandalized
On the Day that I had my fall.

My lover gave them to me.
Though they're nice, I wouldn't buy them
I had to get them for free.
But then I fell
And then I bled
And lay in a bed
And Walked with a cane, then a limp
And finally walked with a stride
And I donned those boots my lover gave me
And found the gore had dried.

Now they won't come clean,
My boots my lover gave me.
They're stained with my
Inky insides and scratched by the street
But I'll keep wearing
The boots my lover gave me just because they're hers.

That, and I have a pair of loafers for weddings and funerals but that doesn't seem nearly as poetic, now does it?