Your size 13 sneakers
Still lie on the bedroom floor
In memories I hear them plop
As you toss them off
On the hardwood floor.

Sometimes I imagine
I hear them squeak
As they run across
The basketball court

Then I remember
How many time your feet
Came racing home
Followed by the echo
Of your voice
"Mom, I'm home"

My motherly grip
Of your memories
Holds tight to your sneakers
Wishing you would direct me to who
You wanted me to give them to
Few could fill your size 13 shoes.

I could give them away
Yet they would always be
Lying on the dock of my heart
Just like you left them
When you walked barefoot
Right into heaven.