A Missing Moccasin

As a very small child my grandmother made me leather moccasins
From the hunt of my grandfathers deer
She wove beads of blue, red, and orange, tied up a lace of twine horse hair string
As I grew up in the Cherokee tribe, my  life was hard but good
I did as all the women, tending to our chores carrying wood for our campfire,
Making each day a day for our family to survive, tending to our men with pride
We moved to another place when we had no choice I lost my moccasin
The one that matched the other for hopes to give to greatgrandchildren
Then one winters night a star bright in the sky followed by a wounded warrior
I tended to his wounds as he was the brave who fought the grizzly
We would feast on the bear, I fell in love at first sight 
Then he opened a beaver skin pouch and what did I discover
The missing mocassin of my childhood, which a year later became my baby boys 
Finding one another in the longing for life knowing my greatgrandparents were looking over us in spirit
Her hands reaching down as she kissed his feet and slipped on the slippers of our native prince
A missing moccasin now a blessing embraced