Old Tap Shoes In Their View

The day had come for me to reside,
I even had my laces tied.
I thought this meant a brilliant thing,
Of reliving my dream and showing off my wing.
Instead I found a shallow box,
That felt just like a bed of rocks.
I sat there desperate to cry,
My taps were worn, but still wished to fly!
I was replaced with a newer design,
I wasn’t even given a sign.
My filaps used to flip,
My shuffles could skip.
Now I was to lie,
Without a shade of good-bye.
I still had it in me; my soles were not worn,
But out with old and in with the newborn.
Dust covered my color; wind blew through my holes,
But I could still do it better from taps to soles!
My body looked old, but my tap was still young,
I was a comforting fit and I still held my tongue.
Inside me I felt that no matter how late,
My body could tap at an excelling rate.
Then at the moment I felt I could rip,
The box was pulled and slightly gave a tip.
I didn’t know what I had in view,
But I would settle to be the shoe.
My taps were ticking my tongue was licking,
I was ready for some tip-tap kicking.
In a shop I was worked on,
With sharp pins, cold hammers, it was like a shoe salon.
Two days later I was up on the shelf,
Revealing my new self.
Pretty girl with stylish toes,
Picked me out and sniffed me with her nose.
This may seem odd,
But she smiled at my odor and said, “Oh, my god!”
She took me home to stay,And that is the reason I am here today!