When I was young and small in tooth <br />I played with things throughout my youth <br />One special time comes to mind <br />When I played with your shoes <br />Too large they were though polished neat <br />No way they could fit my feet <br />Yet imagination trumped fact <br />These shoes were more than I could fill <br />Though I played with them still <br />Ignorant of the chore <br />The owner bore <br />Not knowing these shoes helped <br />Feed me <br />Shelter me <br />Teach me <br />And clear paths I would tread one day <br /> <br />Now I am older with shoes of mine <br />I feel the weight of responsibility <br />I know my shoes must meet <br />My shoes become one with me <br />But as I ponder and reflect <br />Then a deeper truth emerges <br />Had those shoes I played with not been filled <br />Many insights I see would not be for me <br />The solace of reflection replaced with – nothing <br /> <br />Thank you, Dad, for wearing your shoes <br />For walking uncertain paths <br />For standing in your shoes <br />When others ran from theirs <br /> <br /> <br />2/20/2011<br /><br />Claude H Oliver II<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/daddy-s-shoes/
