“Polished, never scuffed – it rests at the threshold of your open door
Elegantly laced with just the slight showings of age, of struggle – of a well worn, appreciated life
It rests
As the shadows of a cold morning and the light of a summers day catches its polished leather
Those shoes, your shoes daddy – have walked a thousand miles of discovery, climbed many a juttered rock, swam many a cold ocean
Your shoes daddy – have felt the tempered heat of a hot January Sunday morning – it’s speedy willingness to enter through the doors of your much loved home of God;
It’s felt the violence of a Cape storm and the rush of a working dawn;
Your shoes daddy – with remnants of stone, shells and dew
Have held the courage of a lion, the gentleness of a lamb
It’s held the strength of a thousand men
In a lifetime of polished care
Through doorways and gateways and byways and highways
Through pebble and grass through dust and dirt
Your shoes daddy
It catches my eye
It rests – well worn, cherished, preserved, polished for its next lullaby
Your shoes daddy
It leaves footprints
It’s leaves love
Your shoes daddy
Will soon sit in heaven above
Six pairs sit beside yours
A reflection of your labor
Polished to precision and living in Gods favour”

Written by Samantha Petersen, for my dad Albert Petersen