Shoes

A poem for CG but not about her.

His tiny feet
In tiny shoes
Make tentative steps
Across the kitchen floor

He wonders at his upright freedom
Delights in the newness
Catches himself before he falls

And when he falls
Which he does, often—
The shoes are stiff,
In need of play—
He stops
Rights himself
And starts again

Determined to take on
His new grown-up responsibility with pride.

“Shoes!” he exclaims
As his fingers wiggle through sleeves
And his feet find their way through
the long pant legs
He makes a pass at the tiny white boot
Holds it between his palms
Turns it over to examine it on all sides

“Woo-woo!” he says
Pointing to the tiny train embroidered
on the outside heel.
He knows these shoes are his.
The steps are his to take
The path is his to walk
The world is his to explore
Upright
Proud
Alive.