Two sandals, both alike in dignity,
In fair Nordstrom, where we lay our scene,
From gorgeous hue break to new wearability,
Where cork soles make sore feet untrue.
From forth the fatal lust for these two shoes
An empty star-cross’d wallet takes its life;
Whole misadventured high-priced killer shoes
Do with their purchase bury my meager savings.
The fearful passage of their death-mark’d price,
And the continuance of my wallet’s emptiness,
Which, but a lottery win, nought could unite,
Is now the one post’s traffic of our blog;
The which if you with patient eyes attend,
What here shall miss, our summer job shall strive to mend.
[With apologies to William Shakespeare.]