Maggie's Shoes Poem by poppy miller

MAGGIE'S SHOES.

They were made of the softest leather,
Flat with crepe soles;
Bought from a charity shop
Down on Regent street on the edge of town.
(At least twenty years ago.)
She wore them day in, day out
For those twenty years.
I often wondered if she slept in them.

Such a journal of memories they held.
Every stain telling a story,
Especially the paint splats.
(She never did learn how to paint properly.)

We laughed so much that day I'd called round,
The shoes taking up most of the conversation.
It was good to see her laugh, she'd been
Looking a bit peaky of late.
Maggie being Maggie fobbed it off
Saying it was just a touch of the collywobbles.
.
After the funeral, her daughter
Handed me a carrier bag
And inside was a pair of
Out of shape, stained shoes.
(Never a one for fancy wrappings was Maggie.)
The note inside read,
"Wear these and you'll never walk alone."



©

22 - 5 - 2016