No Longer Can I Fill these Shoes

No longer can I fill these shoes.

Yet I remember a time

when the patent leather formed neatly around my feet

soft, worn, comfortable

Soles carefree and made of ease

durable for playing chase and hide and seek

or freeze tag in the dark

the lining soft enough for catching fireflies

and my parents goodnight kisses

The tips firm, protecting toes that so easily stumbled.

The heels perfectly made for scuffling

for dragging my feet when it suited

Shoes, easy to pull off for bedtime stories

and tuck-me-in time.

 

No longer do they fit, those shoes

Yet, it matters not.

I have merely grown into a larger size

the soul intact.

 

My Art 050 (1)

 

art by C. Dennis-Willingham

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