Grandma's Shoes

When I was very little, all 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 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 became a mom,
Our kids grew up and left, and then their children came along.

I knew I was a grandma and the time was drawing near
When those chunky, black, old lace-up shoes were 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
That the shape of things to come 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 I can be.

And I look at all these little girls, and there, upon their feet
Are chunky, black, old Grandma shoes, and they really think that's neat.