Two shoes stood upon the stair,
the heels worn down from toil...
emptied of his active feet,
and stained, from grass and soil.
Two tiny feet, so bare and pink...
will patter to the pair
of Daddy's shoes, which lie in wait...
in silent hope and prayer;
That Baby's feet will find their way
to step inside two shoes,
that walked the floor and kicked the ball
and blocked each fall and bruise.
If we could walk, for just one day
in shoes our Fathers wore...
supporting every wish and dream,
his youthful heart worked for...
We'd learn to feel, where textbooks fail
to teach Life's strong foothold...
Our Fathers bronzed our baby shoes---
their hearts have earned the gold.
