Things Fall to Earth in Spring

I drive I-5 to work one day
dodging fallen shoes.
Many litter the slow lane,
stylish spiked heels, pointed toes,
three-toned wedgies, multi-hues,
broken, flattened, run over, new.

One fuzzy blue slipper
recalls Cinderella.
If her glass mule fell from the coach,
would Prince Charming have found her?
Tomorrow, I’ll keep an eye peeled
for socks.