Mama always told me they were my magic shoes

From days when I laughed with pixies

And ran with butterflies.

When I got older, I told Mama

That magic wasn't real, and, if it was, it didn't come from ugly 80s jogging shoes

For material girls' babies.

And Mama'd just smile and say,

"You'll see,

You'll see."

One day in summer

I had gotten older still

And I brought my own little girl to see Mama.

My baby bumped and wobbled

And pulled herself up

And laughed at those pixies as she ran toward me and the butterflies.

And I turned to Mama and said,

"I see,

I see."