For Allison In Portland

The misty morning rain and dove grey sky

Reminds me how the wet days make you smile

I swear I hear your laughter and I sigh

Imagining a bridge across the miles.

We'd put our boots on and go take a walk

We'd splash in all the puddles on our way

We'd joke and tease or maybe we'd just talk

A day I spend with you is the best day.

And even though I miss you constantly

I daydream in your room to feel you near

I know that Portland's where you need to be

So I would never try to keep you here.

So when you feel the rainy morning mist

Know that I am sending you a kiss.

submitted for Magpie Tales, Mag 238

The Bootmaker

photo courtesy of Rob Hanson

Who will fill his shoes when he is gone?

His dye stained hands are leathery as the hide

The hammering fills the hours from dusk til dawn

He has no one with whom to share his pride.

His daughter left his home in rage and tears

He never even knew that she was wed

Never met his grandson of three years

She tells the kid his grandfather is dead.

The older sons both went to fancy schools

Now they shun the work he does by hand

They have no use for all his simple tools

He does his best to try to understand.

His youngest son is practically a ghost

He's heard some folks refer to him as trash

But he's the one who favors her the most

So when he asks, he always gives him cash.

Who will fill his shoes when he is gone?

Who will tan the leather, cut the size?

The bootmaker keeps working on and on

No one to replace him when he dies.

submitted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry