Her feet have wandered on me
Since she was (very) small
And then she changed my color
From pink to beige one day.
I (once) held dolls and tea sets,
I then heldcandlesbooksandreadingnooks.
I’ve watched her feet run,
DaNcE, climb, balance, and fall
Down onto me.
I’ve been stained with her tears,
Herperfumeandherblood,
Her laugh, her *sighs*, and her watery eyes.
I’ve held her as she laid on me,
For hours, pouring over novels and screens,
Rolling around in boredom, or emptiness,
Alone.
Until one day there (weren’t..) just her two feet,
But four came through the door.
I’d never seen those before,
And I didn’t like them at all,
For they invaded a place that had been hers,
Alone.
I (watched) as those feet
Stood quiteclosetohers more than once. or twice..
Her toes (curled) into me, as her joy unfurled.
Her feet ran when those others arrived,
Off of me and out the door.
I watched her grow happier,
And spend more time with those others each day,
I watched her change,
And her feet walked on me less and l e s s.
And one day,
The feet came back,
Except they weren't hers,
And their cleats dug into me,
As they cut and rolled me up,
And I heard her ask from the hallway,
As she stood next to those feet
That took her away from me:
"I think I'd prefer hardwood floors
For our new apartment,
Wouldn't you, honey?"
About the Creator
Theresa Rose
Writer from Long Island
Third Year University Student
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