Shoes

They are friends to my feet; I hold them dear. I wear them with pride and a far-away smile. Mother gave them to me but made it clear I was to be a gentleman all the while. Mother's love moves each leathered step. Her presence is plain as was the grey in her hair. In time I learned Mother was unusually adept At giving gifts showing the depth of her care. The shoes are symbolic of Mother's decency, So I treat scuffs as wounds she's having to bear. She died years ago, but is with me frequently. Thank God for the shoes she blessed me to wear.