The little resale shop just around the corner has been there for years
with its collection of un-usual and unique items, cluttering the
display window. The streaks of dust, dirt and cobwebsenhance the view
of the merchandise.
While walking by one day I noticed a pair of shoes all by their lone-
some, just waiting to be sold. My own shoes began to show sign of wear.
I entered the shop as if some higher power was guiding my fact steps.
A little old lady with steel gray hair and deep blue eyes, ask politely,
"may I help you son"? I haven't been called that since my father passed
away some years ago.
I could not believe my ears when I heard my voice saying, " want the
pair of shoes in the window." With grace and dignity she put the shoes
in an old paper sack, with the and nod of her head said, "God bless
you son and come again".
With my newly acquired purchase I hurried home to try on my shoes.
To my amazement, printed in the tongue of the shoes was, the property
of Mr. Sam Smith, my father.
Evelyn Block
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-fathers-old-shoes/
