Poetry
My Father's shoes
By Solmaz Sharif, 13
Los Angles
August 1997
The Iranian
They were my father's shoes.
My mother looked at them and saw a donation to Goodwill.
My father looked at them and saw his life.
They were there with him on the last step on his home country.
They were there with him when he first saw me.
They kissed the dirt of the "land of opportunity."
My mother looks at them and sees dust collectors.
My father sees his first day at work.
He sees his graduation.
He sees the hard work it took to get those shoes.
My mother looks at them and sees things that take up extra space.
I don't look at the shoes,
My father's face says it all.
