When you died,
You led us—my daughter and me--
To a shoe sale.
What else? You loved shoes so.
Hats too,
And sudden, deliberate, flamboyant language,
Champ-og-nee, mune-i-sip-al,
Mauled words giving permission to be said.
We wore our new shoes, picked out by you from beyond.
Deliberately, my daughter wore red lingerie.
You smiled your approval,
Whispered to us, “Linger-ee.”
Author Bio:
Mary Ann Noe has written poetry almost since she could pick up a pencil, though her early poetry should probably line birdcages. However, since then, she has published short stories and non-fiction, as well as poetry. Along the line, she taught high school English and psychology for, well, many years, but is now retired and free to write even more. She loves to pick up small details of life around her, and find meaning, thoughtfulness, and joy in them.
You led us—my daughter and me--
To a shoe sale.
What else? You loved shoes so.
Hats too,
And sudden, deliberate, flamboyant language,
Champ-og-nee, mune-i-sip-al,
Mauled words giving permission to be said.
We wore our new shoes, picked out by you from beyond.
Deliberately, my daughter wore red lingerie.
You smiled your approval,
Whispered to us, “Linger-ee.”
Author Bio:
Mary Ann Noe has written poetry almost since she could pick up a pencil, though her early poetry should probably line birdcages. However, since then, she has published short stories and non-fiction, as well as poetry. Along the line, she taught high school English and psychology for, well, many years, but is now retired and free to write even more. She loves to pick up small details of life around her, and find meaning, thoughtfulness, and joy in them.
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