Mommy's Shoes

Mommy’s Shoes

I was five, or four,

Sneaking in

to open the cupboard door.

Taking out the elegant heels,

Sneaking them on with ease.

My feet filling the space that was home to your toes.

Klomp, klomp, klomp,

I was a ‘grown up’,

Just like you.

That was all it took,

Just wear mommy’s shoes.

I was fifteen, or fourteen,

Now borrowing your shoes.

Matching an outfit for a dance,

Or casually strolling the mall.

Moving,

Missioning to my own tune.

Passing by with a:

“Thanks for your shoes.”

Twenty-four, twenty-five,

My own cupboard,

My own shoes.

“Grown up”.

Klomp, klomp, klomp,

Illusions shattered.

There was more going on in your shoes

Than pretending

and dancing

ever prepared me for.