My Fathers Old Shoes
The little resale shop just around the corner has been there for years
with its collection of un-usual and unique items, cluttering the
display window. The streaks of dust, dirt and cobwebsenhance the view
of the merchandise.
While walking by one day I noticed a pair of shoes all by their lone-
some, just waiting to be sold. My own shoes began to show sign of wear.
I entered the shop as if some higher power was guiding my fact steps.
A little old lady with steel gray hair and deep