A SMALL SHOE
A small shoe in a light blue box,
And a story of what it meant.
Scuffed and soiled by a bit of wear,
Its contour misshapen and bent
That little shoe was shod on a foot
That was learning to walk a bit,
When the baby left this worldly realm,
And the pair of shoes was split
Her Mom kept one of the little shoes
Along with a stocking, too,
As a memory of her angel-child . . .
And Gram has the other shoe.
8/2/04 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck
Advertisements
How sad. The pain is still there and probably always will be.
I have had the pain of my sons death, before he turned fifty, but this is just a bit my imagination, when a litte one was ill. Thank goodness it could remain imagination. Thank you for your response. Since art is to touch people, I guess I did my job right then. Thank you.