A Subway Dance

Feet scuffle past me, my own joining the fancy shoes, old shoes, new shoes, falling-apart shoes,
My own included, faded and losing colour, a once bright yellow decorated with sharpied on flowers and smiling faces,
Now a blurred mess of sharpie and black ink, soles slightly loose and clumsy,
Laces never tied and floppy, strings fraying and stretched,
My body moves with the others, twisting and weaving, ducking and bobbing along with all the other shoes,
Similar to a dance, where everyone's my partner, all taking turns as to dance with who and who not to,
Falling in pace with someone for a few seconds before stepping back and finding a new person to waltz with,
Everyone lost in their own dances and their own shoes which tell a story, unique to them and them only,
Soft chattering rises as the screeching of a train approaches, it's bright light shines onto faces,
All awaiting its arrival, wishing for the subway dance to be over, feet swiftly carry people past the old and noisy train doors,
Shoes, fancy ones, old, new, falling-apart shoes all stop, finding places whether it be beside someone,
Or standing still and alone, the chattering fades from outside on the platform as the doors quickly close,
Every pair of shoes waits and waits for a new dance to begin,
The same old steps as before.