Black Leather Shoes

Maddie and Clea are sitting next to me 

And had I not looked down I’d never have seen 

The dark black leather that coated their feet 

Or the coal-coloured rubber on the underneath 

Their legs swung lazily over carpeted floor 

Or walked along concrete to the classroom door 

But never had they felt the water before 

From the creek by our school, or the river, or the shore

Had light filtered sweetly through the trees on their face?

Had their gross leather shoes marked the mud in their place?

Had they taken them off and dived without trace 

Into the sweet crystal water of the beach or the lake? 

Would the heavy, black shoes even come off if they tried?

Or would they stay in the dark as their skin cracked and dried?

Could Maddie and Clea ever feel the high 

Of a soft breeze on their skin or the pull of the tide?