aging

What’s in a Shoe?

lillian7 Comments

They sit behind closed closet doors
in back of the shoe rack, gathering dust.
Two-toned in black and white,
four inch heels to elongate the leg
toes so narrow their tips turn up
after years of emptiness.
Ground-in talc mottles the inside
used oh so many times to smooth the sole,
pressure points etched in long dried sweat
from happier bare legged days.

Witness to her previous life
they sat primly crossed in corporate talks
hid behind podiums and knelt at pews
clicked down hallways, sat quietly grieving
in cold rooms filled with overwhelming floral scent,
danced at weddings and stood higher still,
tips of heels up off the floor
for a lifetime of New Year’s kisses.
These Spectators, aptly named
sit waiting to see the sun again.

Life Long Delight

lillian4 Comments

He took to soap and water from an early age,
standing on a stool, sleeves rolled up
playing in the suds.

As a college chap,
he was a regular with his chums,
second stool from the left at Chauncey’s Pub.

Not in it for the guzzling,
he liked to watch the suds drip down his glass
and feel the foam against his upper lip.

Retired now, no children of his own,
he’s become a summer legend
in the neighborhood corner park.

Washtub at his feet,
nets of string on two long poles
he dips and waves, and dips again.

Magic billows out across the lawn
this man, doing what he loves
is now, and always has been
the bubbles man.

Steps of Old

lillian3 Comments

In this place
we lived life without reins
walked quickly, surefooted and headstrong
enjoyed the sleep of youth, less but deep
savored black coffee and devoured Kierkegaard.

This hill
tread so many times
landscape changed, more green, more lush
more steps, surely higher, climb to a different space
new buildings rise above refurbished old.

The trees are bigger, the shade more dense
as we seek the shadows of our past.

      

Tap Into Life’s Lessons

lillian12 Comments


Magic shoes! Shiny black with big looped bows
slabs of silver metal screwed on soles.
Best gift ever, when I was oh so young.
And oh how I remember…..

NOISE.
PURE NOISE!!!
Swing a leg. Stomp, march, slap, clang!!
Body all feet. ALL SOUNDS.
EVEN WHen i tiptoed.
Add lessons, Tuesdays at ten.
To learn.
Teacher teaches,
directs, muzzles.
Shu-ffle, shu-ffle.
Shu- no, NO, NO!
SHHHH!!!
Like-this.
Con-trol the-swing,
shor-ter. NOT so big.
Shu-ffle, shu-ffle.
One-two, one-two.
Slow-down. Con-trol the-sound.
Com-press your-space.

And there I was, in the mirrored wall,
shrinking. Like putting reins on little feet.
Learning to be small
while growing big.
Learning to fit in.

Junie Z.

lillian12 Comments

West School, still here.
That metal bar around the schoolyard,
smoother now. So many years
of little hands sliding along its surface.
I bend low, touch its coolness
and you’re with me again.
Junie with the short dark hair.
Eyes closed, I see four anklet socks
in plain brown mary janes
kick up and over the rail,
cotton dresses in laughing faces.
Up the street, a car alarm blares.
And just like that,
your laughter floats away,
my hand lifted from the bar.


WRITING PROMPT in my June Challenge class:  recall a memory of someone, what provoked the memory — a scent, a place? 

With Apologies to Oscar Wilde

lillian3 Comments

I’d never met a ghost
or a celebrity
so was surprised on the treadmill
when Oscar Wilde whispered
directly in my ear,
the heart was meant to be broken.

Home again,
caretaker roles reversed
your heart beats strong
mine now slow,
blown out from stress
like a Japanese octopus bag.

Takotsubo,
Broken Heart Syndrome.
Not the stuff of playwrights.

I learned again that day
the importance of being earnest.
Talking softly with, not at,
we climbed five stairs
inch by inch,
this time
your steps
matched to mine.