Shoes by the Door
Two shoes stand side by side.
Cracked leather, bent at the heels.
Their laces frayed, their weight heavy.
They lean together like old friends.
They have walked roads of dust.
They have crossed fields of silence.
They have carried laughter, carried grief.
Every step is written in them.
Now they wait beside the door.
Still as dogs, guarding the house.
They look ready to move again.
Yet no one reaches for them now.
Do shoes remember the rhythm of feet?
Do they dream of the ground beneath?
Or do they sleep in quiet shadows,
knowing their work is done?
I step past, careful not to touch.
Something about them feels tender.
As though they are holding memory.
As though they are not quite gone.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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