by Bugandthebee April. 06, 2017 625 views

Toward the end she only wore

her brown ones, the Velcro not quite

holding anymore; toes scuffed

from Wednesday ballroom class,

sand for melting snow embedded

in the soles. She had others:

concert pumps, her sheading slippers,

flip-flops for the Cape. These stayed

lined up beneath her dresses, expectant,

but her husband always fetched

the brown ones, helped her

to the armchair, eased the crew socks

past her bunions, rubbed

her vein-mapped calves, slipped

the left one then the right one on

the way a kindergarten teacher helps

a scared new pupil into her galoshes; then

he placed each foot, each gorgeous foot,

against the wheelchair’s rests,

and wheeled her deferentially to the dining hall for breakfast.

"My Mother's Shoes" by Frannie Lindsay

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Jay Boggess 4 years, 2 months ago

Touching tribute to your Mom! If only our old shoes could speak of all their adventures.....

4 years, 2 months ago Edited
Bugandthebee Replied to Jay Boggess 4 years, 2 months ago

agreed, she had a wonderful life..

4 years, 2 months ago Edited
Jay Boggess Replied to Bugandthebee 4 years, 2 months ago



4 years, 2 months ago Edited