literature

Empty sneakers

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juliette-de-lamour's avatar
Published:
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Literature Text

A child's life is taken
A mother suffers alone
Her house becomes a prison
It can never again be a home
Many dark hallways wait
Once filled with laughter and joy
But still many pictures hang
Of her lost little boy
Though her house holds many memories
There is nothing that haunts her more
Then those ratty, mud-stained sneakers
That sit empty by the door.

Each morning she wakes up alone
And pulls out of bed
She stares at that empty chair
Her heart full of dread
She passes out the door for work
No hand to hold her own
And there those shoes sit- much the same
Cold, worn and without a home.

Those shoes will always be the same
No rain to soak the soles
No mud will splatter up the sides
They will bear no more holes
They live a rather meaningless life
Their keeper has gone away
But their worthless presence lingers
And they are here to stay.

The mother knows there is no fix
But she holds her heart sore
Hoping one day her precious son's feet
Will be bare no more
It's been close to seven years now
No body seen around
But still he's out there waiting
Hoping to be found.  

Still his mother cannot move on
Until she sees him home
So she can put his sneakers on
And bury them with his bones
And though her heart holds many memories
There is nothing that kills her more
Then those ratty, mud-stained sneakers
That sit empty by the door.
:ohnoes:
© 2011 - 2024 juliette-de-lamour
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