Guardian pal

Like a shadow
you know is there
but disappears when
you turn to confront it

it’s there, but he’s not

Following discreetly,
benignly nourish
part of the atmosphere
minus the trench coat

Sometimes light diffuses
instead of illuminates

My father’s memory,
legacy, aura follows me

no, I am not paranoid
just aware of the oddly
whimsical, enchanting and
sardonic, wry and witty

benevolent, quirky,
constant companion

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…