Ode to a shoelace

Last evening we had a small gathering around the fire pit to read poetry. I started with Pablo Neruda's Ode to Ironing. My Beloved asked if there was an ode to shoelaces, and thus began an odyssey. For the rest of the evening, I read nothing but odes to shoelaces.

Stomp

We started with Ode to a shoelace, followed by Ode to a shoelace, and Ode to a shoelace. Next there was Ode to a fraying shoelace, Ode to the dangly shoelace, and My shoelace. Then, Ode to an aglet, and Shoelaces.

There were others, too, but I can't find them this morning. But I've found many others this morning, ranging from the silly to the profound to the semi-literate.

Perhaps I'll write an ode myself.


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Some people are heroes. And some people jot down notes. Sometimes, they're the same person. (The Truth. Terry Pratchett)