Four boots set on the cobblestones
Outside the shoemaker’s shop.
Four boots turned into flower pots.
A small shop, full of shoes,
piled up everywhere.
Boots, sandals, ballerinas,
heels, for dancing, or for walking.
In the back a woman, hair pulled back,
attaching the sole of a well-worn shoe.
Years ago, she said, her father died.
The cemetery, when she went
Seemed empty.
That wasn’t where her father was,
And so she went no more.
Then one day walking in the woods
Her eye was caught
By a pair of beaten-up galoshes
half-hidden in the underbrush.
They looked familiar,
Old acquaintances they seemed
For they had been her father’s.
She took them home
And set them outside her door
Planting them with pansies, pensees or thoughts,
also known as heartsease.
Now every day on leaving
Or returning home at night
Her father’s there to welcome her.
Erika Bizzarri 
I love this Erika! Where is the shop, or has it become something else?
James II
LikeLiked by 1 person
The original shoemaker ceded the shop to the present owner – the lady of the flower shoes. The street goes downhill up to Via Cava to the left of the bank, Cassa di Risparmio. It is almost parallel to Via Filippeschi.
LikeLike
Erika Really sweet vignette! j
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love all of this piece, which nicely complements your earlier shoe reflection, but I do have a favorite moment:
The cemetery, when she went Seemed empty. That wasn’t where her father was…
It turns out that there is a company called Metaphor that makes shoes. But they do not look as comfortable as these (says she, who hopes that her still-comfortable saddle shoes from the fifth grade will one day have a future like these lucky boots.)
Envoyé de mon Di-Phone
LikeLiked by 1 person