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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1489035
remembering mama
I am sure my mama had shoes,
but I don't remember her
ever wearing them when
I was a young child.
I do remember her dancing
and telling us about things
like the Charleston
and her and daddy
doing the Rumba together.

Those days are
like a dream to me,
her bare feet shuffling
and stepping across
the old worn kitchen linoleum,
as the old record player
scratched out Big Band 1940's.
Sometimes she would bend
and do the twist.

These thoughts bring a tear.
Only me and mama know why.
I feel selfish and lazy
knowing she went without
so I could have
shoes for school.
I turn up my stereo loud
and dance barefoot.
I hope she knows I am thankful.
© Copyright 2008 Lou-Here By His Grace (tattsnteeth2 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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