Memory of Sons
Kathleen Ripley Leo
Once, my sons put on their father’s shoes
and flip-flopped through the house
like baby seals slipping on ice floes.
Then, one grew two sizes bigger than dad
and the other could borrow his good
Johnson and Murphy’s for a dance.
Often, I put on their running shoes and
flip-flopped out to the mailbox,
like a mother seal slipping around her pups
careful how I stepped, gripping them close.
I think, how their bones have grown
and their fine sense of fair play.
Now, I hold these memories tight to me,
as I hold the image of their faces
like bright stars in my heart.
© KRLeo 2026