Today I opened the box
of shoes, you had brought.
The yellow shoes, those fitted my feet perfectly, unlike
the me in your life.
You measured my feet
and my love for shoes,
but for you?
Now you never will walk beside me
or hold my hand.
You grew out of that nascent love
and flimsy feelings.
My feet did not grow.
I could slip into those shoes
that you presented to me one day
for this lonely yet comfortable walk
through the by lanes of that
not so perfect past.
I look at my beautiful feet and smile,
what made you bring shoes
of all the things....
Copyright Mridual@writingdoll
Written in the June of 93, The shoes...yellow slip on...I gave those away...almost new. Some memories are crazy and funny but they are good ideas for poetry. :)
of shoes, you had brought.
The yellow shoes, those fitted my feet perfectly, unlike
the me in your life.
You measured my feet
and my love for shoes,
but for you?
Now you never will walk beside me
or hold my hand.
You grew out of that nascent love
and flimsy feelings.
My feet did not grow.
I could slip into those shoes
that you presented to me one day
for this lonely yet comfortable walk
through the by lanes of that
not so perfect past.
I look at my beautiful feet and smile,
what made you bring shoes
of all the things....
Copyright Mridual@writingdoll
Written in the June of 93, The shoes...yellow slip on...I gave those away...almost new. Some memories are crazy and funny but they are good ideas for poetry. :)
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