Redux

Shoes; a pair fit in my hand

Shoes sometimes bronzed
for museum-reverence, dusty
display on living room mantle

Unfathomable they once
thundered across hardwood
floors in a symphonic cacophony
of thumping, giggles, pure joy.

Little shoes; toy-like.

Worn soles, tattered seams,
frayed laces a dingy gray

Just a pair of shoes. Hers.

Two little shoes in a box
reminding me of a time when
questions asked were serious,
mock-profound, the answers
given in return simple

not vice versa

She walked in those shoes
a long time ago, and now will
have the chance to walk in mine
and someday, not so many years
ahead, she will have a pair of
little shoes, sitting in a box
and will wax on the unfathomable
truth that her own son once was
small enough to wear them

Shoes. A pair fit in my hand…

Published by

poetluckerate

I am a poet, writer and teacher who moved from Minnesota to New Orleans in 2008 to help rebuild the worst public school system in America. It is a huge challenge to say the least. Now, after ten years, I have returned home to my native Midwest. Writing - in many different forms and ways - has saved me untold thousands in therapy bills throughout the years. Reading my writings may do either the same - or just the opposite - for you. Read at your own risk, as I do not offer writer malpractice insurance. ;-{) I hope you enjoy what you read here.