In the back of the closet.
Underneath the sewing kits.
Your shoes lined in a row.
I would try them on and walk a bit.
Or maybe it was a tie.
I always enjoyed the patterns.
The reds, the blues, the grays.
The paisley was always my favorite.
Now I am grown.
And I feel the same.
Just a kid in adult clothing.
Just pretending.
There is no moment.
No exact time you are an adult.
When you have wisdom.
When you have poise.
I’m trying to fill your shoes.
But they still seem impossibly large.
I’m trying to be the man.
That I always remembered you were.
There are still times.
When I wish I could hide.
Go back to that closet.
Filled with your suits and ties.
Imagine what it’s like.
To take care of the family.
Imagine the responsibility.
Imagine the burdens to carry.
We are all still kids.
Pretending to be adults.
Hoping we make them proud.
Hoping we will eventually grow up.
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Author:
Baker (
Offline) - Published: August 15th, 2025 09:07
- Category: family
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
A wonderful poem of reflection on the adult that we all aim to be. Very nicely written and so personal. Loved it a fave
A very personal write of their ambitions to be an adult which will be familier to many. With reference to whoose shoes are their guide and they are trying to feel, nicely expressed and written
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