Thursday 9 June 2022

Missing

 


It's that time of year for Arum lilies. And another sad poem I'm afraid...it must be the rain...


Missing You

 

Your shoes still hold the shape of you.

I find them where you left them

to dry, perhaps, one behind the other

on the doorstep. Left foot forward,

slightly hen-toed. As if you are walking

a tight rope, which you were,

though we didn’t know it.

They look poised to step over

 

whatever obstacle is in your way.

They look practiced, ragged, war-torn.

Nike - you must have bought them in a sale,

as you’d never pay the price for brand-names.

They’re not your style, or colour, but surely your size?

though you’ve been known to buy bigger

at the right price. You even bought odd sizes once

in a bargain-basement. “Scrooge!” we called you.

 

But you were never stingy with your heart.

Emptying out your account for those who deserved

and those who aspired

and those who just happened to be there.

 

I will leave the shoes, just- so.

Primed and poised on some imminent adventure

Waiting for your say-so

Waiting for you

Copyright 2022 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved 

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