It’s not really about the shoes, is it?
Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010The most glamorous Dr. Scholl’s shoes
now clad my feet,
at sixty, they meet with my comfort.
Out of the blue, I had a flash back
to 1959, where I
wore the most ugly
Buster Brown shoes.
They were corrective for something,
I can’t remember.
Both parents are gone,
my sister, too,
and my brother can’t fill in the blanks.
Why can’t I remember
what was wrong with my feet
when I can recall
the shame of those shoes?
I miss those lost memories,
as well as my folks,
and my sister
who all went before me.
They stole away pieces
of my past,
I buried a part of me
with them.
I will, Liz, and Country Girl, I definitely remember they were CORRECTIVE shoes! Brown, boyish, with special coverings on the toes, like an extra swatch of leather sewn on. But, I bet you WERE adorable. Thanks for the answers.
I like your poem ma
I believe the universe is telepathically linked..
..keep asking your Mom and Dad…
they’ll supply the answer
my sister does










