Shoes by Melinda Cochrane

Ripping open the package
there were shoes in there-
black ones
one-inch heel
fairly simple
brown paper
protecting the leather
from scratches or wear
from shipping
taking the paper away
from the waiting
they seemed to
ask, “Are we going anywhere?”
placed both on the floor
slipping feet within
walking around
they moved up and down
the wooden worn out
floor boards stomping
loud responses
music playing in the background
of memory set aside for
building life
taking them off
placing them at the
foot of a dress
demanding the box
be thrown out
in the recycled trash
and the shoes
stay in promise
smiling at the new leather
the unscratched
newness of possible
caressing night lights
as they sit there at the bottom
waiting for movement from
the demanding dress
the caressing night lights
the possible
By Melinda Cochrane 
also published at lifeasahumanmagazine 

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