When I was very little

All the Grandmas that I knew

Were wearing the same kind

Of ugly grandma shoes. .

 

You know the kind I mean. .

Clunky heeled, black, lace-up kind,

They just looked so very awful

That 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.

 

I never was a rebel,

I wore saddle shoes to school,

And next came ballerinas

Then the sandals, pretty cool.

 

And 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 ugly shoes,

The kind that Grandmas wear,

 

I eventually got married

And then I became a Mom

Our kids grew up and left,

And when their children came along,

 

I knew I was a Grandma

And the time was drawing near

When those clunky, black, old lace up shoes

Was what I’d have to wear.

 

How would I do my gardening

Or take my morning hike?

I couldn’t even think about

How I would ride my bike!

 

But fashions kept evolving

And one day I realized

Was changing, right before my eyes.

 

And now, when I go shopping

What I see, fills me with glee

For, in my jeans and Reeboks

I’m as comfy as can be.

 

And I look at all these little girls

And there, upon their feet

Are clunky, black, old Grandma shoes,

And I really think that’s neat.

 

- Betty Cessna -

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