Once upon a time,
every time I came in the back door,
a jumble of shoes would greet me,
shucked off by my kids after school,
backpacks dropped in a heap,
from the day's confinements.
I used to deplore the jumble,
wondering how on earth
to make five pairs of shoes
(one pair each was all I could afford)
look less like a toppled mountain
and more like we lived in
an orderly establishment.
my son wanted Doc Marten boots
which I could not afford, but
I bought them anyway, because
it was Christmas.
New Year's morning I went downstairs to find
ONE boot inside the back door.
The other had been lost in last night's partying.
Someone had tossed it
out a car window,
and he had risked frostbite
hopping home with only one boot
through the freezing snow.
Not our finest hour,
Who knew that one day,
I would walk in my door,
shuck off my ONE pair of shoes,
and miss that big heap of tennis shoes,
and all of the bodies they carried around
through those busy happy laughing
inspired by the prompt at dVerse: on shoes