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,
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,