those shoes,
when was last you wore them?
they fray at the sides
the color fades
they strain at the seams
the laces are threads,
yet i recall you wearing them
never before.
new pair, or
old pair?
that's the question.
you sigh when i ask you this.
you trace the sideseam
of your right shoe, looking
down, and you say,
they were my older sister's.
and i remember the truth,
that your sister died
a year ago, today,
and i simply take your hand and say,
she wore them well.
and so do you.
YOU ARE READING
visions
Poesiathe thoughts in my head, however disorganized [warning, it can get heavy.] -- poetry #43 random #86