Click Clack Shoes

I remember her perfume
Mingled with make-up, hair spray
Comforting was the mingled scent

So many things to adorn herself
Leaning into the mirror
to blend her make-up

Sunday mornings all dressed up
Click Clack went her shoes

I sat on her satin slipped lap
ribbons and bows
she curled my young locks

Now I lean into the mirror
blend my make-up

I have no young curls to curl
nor ribbons to tie,
rather I have belts to tighten
and cowlicks to flatten.

And I wear the Click Clack shoes.

The sound of Sunday morning

~By Gillian Brickey, August 2011~