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.
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