2011-11-16T23:10:55-08:00November 16th, 2011|Musings on life, Parenthood|

The shoehorn

When I was little
I thought everything ached
to be noticed

even the words in the dictionary
each of them quietly hoping
I would turn to them this time
flutter their letters on my tongue
read their story

I see it in my son
I tried to put the shoehorn away today
he burst into tears

I forgot what it was like
when objects weren’t dead
when a shoehorn was a thrilling
new friend.

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