Boots

If only we could know first 
How many steps we'd take;
How much our journey shapes us 
before we start to break.

Each crease as lined as leather, 
Each soul and upper too.
Each print our tread is forming 
as our path guides each shoe.

My boots they knew no heartache
They suffered no regret
They dreamed of mountain ranges
And no arthritis yet.

They fitted glove like, sturdy,
Belonging to a time;
When striding came so easy. 
When all the time was mine.

Together we stepped lightly;
Conquering each land.
Jumping each new puddle, 
Footprints on wet sand. 

We climbed upon Ben Nevis,
A trek- but it was reached.
Meandering each corner, 
Strong knees, no pain, no creaks.

Soon other shoes were needed.
Some smart, not really me.
A uniform, creating;
The package they would see.

The ones I'd entertain in.
The ones I'd never wear.
Misguided online bargains,
Essential! Every pair.

A rack of rainbow choices, 
A dance through every night,
A dance on every table.
Steps pure, and keen and light

Time plays tricks with bodies, 
And nothing stays the same.
each ache a crumbling cliffside,  
A daily maze of pain.

No more heels that teeter,
Wardrobes filled with waste. 
Slippers , clogs and loafers;
Comfort over taste.

Sun streams in this morning 
Spring is in the air
Too cool yet for barefoot  
What is a girl to wear?

Dusty still they sit there;
Cobwebs in the shed. 
Hope on each horizon,
Earthbound treks instead.

Found again companions!
Better still with time.
Every crack a story,
From a life that's mine.

Slide each sock in easy.
Patience taken root.
Climbing my own mountains, 
Grounded in my boots.

Liz Walker