Vincent’s Shoes


To Walk in His

He built his palette
around the ragged colors
of her tortoise-shell calico,
piled like earth
in a sunny corner.

His worn soul
embraced the folds
of those crumpled old shoes,
shredded laces, wilted leather
scuffed with the stuff of a life
that beat paths through
fields of irises, sunflowers, wheat,
the streets of Arles, and
dreams lost to the night sky.

© Elaine Frankonis

2 thoughts on “Vincent’s Shoes

  1. I fully enjoyed this piece of poetry and felt each wrinkle and fold in those traveled shoes…….mike.

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