Poetry

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An old pair of shoes curled up at the toe, I wonder where they've been or where they might go.
Have they traveled down roads where nobody cared, or have they walked softly down wooded paths shared?
Have they been bent at the sole from the kneeling of prayer, are the heels worn from the back and forth trips of an old rocking chair?
Have they climb up church steps and rested inside, have they felt the sweet quite peace only Jesus provides?
Have they crept up a staircase to pray for sleeping children tucked-in? Only God knows where these old shoes have been.

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