Hand-me-down (Poem)

Image result for old boots

I kept
your mother’s gardening boots
I hope you don’t mind

too big for you,
they fit me just fine–
I walked in your shadow
and every step felt like home

I knew they wouldn’t last
but wore them anyway

day in, day out
until the leather cracked
the soles wore thin
and rubbed blisters into my heels

I fixed the soles with superglue
hid the cracks with polish
set them by the front door
waiting

I keep thinking maybe
one day
you’ll want them back.

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