I haven’t been a child for a while,

those tiny little boots

now in that donation pile.

I’ve buried those roots.

I never walked away,

and I watched the growth.

I waited ‘til it faded gray,

and I could never learn to loathe.

I’m pivoting away from it.

I don’t want to leave,

but I can’t commit

to something that makes me so naive.

It’s stupid, honestly,

I held onto it for him.

Guess it was subconsciously

how I held it on a whim.

I can miss him,

but I’m not going to

turn my mind grim.

He’d want me to be new.

Those little shoes

when we danced in the rain.

You sure knew how to amuse,

and you helped forget the pain.

My little boots,

and your little Vans.

Our fun little cahoots,

and our wrecked little plans.

We sure were crazy,

in our funny little shoes.

We weren’t even close to lazy,

with an unknown path to choose.

My little boots,

and your little Vans.

Our little shoes.