May 25, 2021
2:18 am

My dad’s slippers sit
On the wooden shoe shelf in the garage
Covered, squeezed in, under others
My mother’s slippers too

They remind me of loss
These soft slides used to sit in prime position in the front hall
Waiting for warm, old, familiar feet
To fill them and come in

The floors are lonely
Quiet, desolate, cool and forlorn
Missing the creak, the slap of your feet
Gathering dust in corners unswept

I want to see your feet fill these shoes
Walking on the scratched hardwood
Resting next to the couch as we sit side by side
Curled up cozy under you in my home

These slippers, they haunt me
Sing soft sounds of regret and yearning
Peering up at me with hope
Reminding me that soon, soon you will come

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