Archive
12/15/10 - (1)
Baby Shoes
Throughout the night, my thin, insubstantial dreams Were freighted with a recurring vision, An odd preoccupation with a pair of bronzed baby shoes.
Whose diminutive shoes they were was never in doubt. Only the why of their surfacing, three or five times, During my restive sleep's passage, was elusive,
And then, even that question Had less of a pressing need to know Than a bemused curiosity as to the anomalous image itself.
Indeed, it wasn't until I had showered, dressed, And was tying my worn, clunky, brown-leather Rockports, That I began taking my first baby steps,
Toddling back toward age one, Connecting my seven decades with that wonder-realm Where a lifetime progresses second by second, forever.
12/15/10 - (1)
|
|||
|
|||
