Elegy of Shoes
by Andrea L. Alterman



Some are faded to leather dust,
some still have the shape of toes inside,
some were crushed beneath the weight
of sitting and waiting to die,

Some were taken off with care,
mothers played ten piggies one
last time, with some their soles
were bare already turning black
from a road no one wanted to
leave a print upon,

Many now have long been gone,
their shoes the final solid place
in which they stood, waiting, but
not expecting a single chance
to smell evergreens in springtime
woods, with soil warm, and raindrops
jumping up the ponds,

Some have faded into gray,
many are shaped by dust,
footprints left inside no longer
tracking years of summer days,
orphaned shoes surrendered,
owners remembered barely,
brown hair, green eyes, dimples,
crooked fourth toes, hairy big toes,
a small freckled ankle,
everything comes to one in
each deserted shoe.

by Andrea L. Alterman





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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