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
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
Time to put them on and take them for a walk - 😄😄😄😄
We all have our favorite tennis shoes and I think they do remember for why then does your feet feel so comfortable in them.