~ Mothers Shoes
Holidays come and go…
With a sense of unworthiness
Yet earnest hearts
We attempt, to slip
Into her shoes
Prepare Fathers favorite foods
But an emptiness lays heavy,
In his drooping head
Sudden naps
Filled with dreams of what was
And never will be again
Scents fill the house
An ache points
To an open door
Where we hide our tears
Knowing we could never
Fill our Mothers shoes
Shoes that now walk
On streets of gold
For Fathers sake, we try
And pretend
The circle isn’t broken.
O’Prunty
3/4/15
