The Shoes

These are the shoes
That she wore in the autumn of '88;
The shoes scuffed like her kneecaps
Whenever she fell down;
When she learn'd to ride her first tricycle.
These are the shoes
That she rattled as she sat,
Bored in her highchair;
That we'd gently prise off her tired feet;
That splattered and slapped through autumn puddles.
These are the shoes
That would kick themselves as she rode on my shoulders
When she was a little girl.
These are the shoes
She toddled about in.
And I've kept them in my case.