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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #2190846
A poem based on loss.
For sale: Baby shoes, never worn

What size? I’m not sure
Very small, so small
I haven’t checked, to be honest
I’d have no idea at all

What do they look like?
Oh, the picture, im sorry
Its just, I didn’t take it
Ill go check, maybe tomorrow, don’t worry

But they are pink
With a bow on the heal
And they are sparkly, and shimmery
With sequins on the front, in a pretty greeny teal

And they have dolphins to the side
Who are leaping, like from a wave
And a sun drawn on the front
Only for sale, as the receipt I did not save

And there’s an ice-cream on the front
Did I forget to mention
Its half melted, I think, actually, sorry
Possibly due the untimely invasion

Of dust, on the hems
Of a golden lace,
Oh, wheres that picture?
Ill take one tomorrow, todays too much to face.
Are they healed?
I think, to be honest I cant quite remember
You want to buy unseen?
Oh wow, okay, this is quick, so, sir

How old is your daughter?
Is she kind? Is she sweet?
Will she cherish these shoes
On her tiny little feet

I’m sorry, but I don’t think your right
For the purchase of these shoes
Of course, home is paramount
For something like these, I simply wouldn’t want them to lose

Out on life? They must go somewhere to be loved
Where they will walk through puddles
Up hills, over logs
Witness long, mother, daughter cuddles.

Because they are beautiful
And so very unique,
and they can not be taken from me
so I wish you luck, as you seek

to find little shoes
to fit your daughters little feet
in the mean time, they can wait
for a new home, so petite.
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