I love my luxurious, gleaming LeBron sneakers.

Their slate and crimson complexion blends

more beautifully than a brilliant bonfire in the black night.

They sit side by side dreaming in their closet,

like a pair of eagles nestled high in a tree.

Your reflection glistens

like a mirror.

I try not to stare,

but your sleek texture attracts me.

I first saw you,

gazing at me in the Footlocker window,

telling me that you were the one.

You comforted my feet more than ever,

no need to keep the tag,

because you are my treasure.

Tournaments, practices, through and through,

what would I do without you?

Screech!

Your high pitched voice echoes against the court floor

with traction grooves hugging my toes.

Yet you have such a soft sole,

softer than baby powder,

or sand at the beach.

You smell of fresh fabric,

and launch me to heights I never imagined.

You inspired me to be fearless,

like the heart of a Lion.

Do you remember when you helped me

go to the basketball AAU finals?

You were my rocket fuel,

to energize me enough to make the game winning shot.

Lift off.

When we are done, I gently place you on my shelf

Where you go to sleep like babies,

with your laces untied,

ready to be strapped back up

for the next game.