I saw them lying there

on top of the thrift store’s discard pile,

two small and tattered pairs of children’s shoes

that had traveled the humble mile.

I recognized them instantly

as the ones that had been worn on their feet.

They were homeless, that little boy and girl,

innocents living on the street.

The kid’s shoes bore the tell tale markings

of being worn until they could fit no more.

So here they were traded in for a newer pair

of hand-me-down shoes from the thrift store.

I did not know the circumstances of their poverty,

what forced these children out there to roam.

While many are able to give their kids so much,

these babies’ parents could not even give theirs a home.

I picked up the little shoes,

observing the thinned soles and frayed laces.

The toes were so scuffed and worn

you could tell their original colors only by traces.

I thought of those two children and their travels,

each mile for them truly a humble mile.

I prayed God’s blessings for these victims of a lesser fate

as I laid the tattered outgrown shoes back on the discard pile.