This is a work in progress. For some odd reason-when I'm in spanish class I start scribbling about these boots-my boots-ur boots. Any suggestions are welcome-and constructive crit too!
These boots were never comfortable
and they always meant work.
I must have been crazy to want a pair
so desperately.
Little did I know-
they would change my life forever.
I loved my boots though.
Took great pride in the fabulous shine.
Tramped all over South Korea.
That sure was a good time,
yet lots of training-I was glad to leave
behind.
They've been everywhere man.
Georgia was the next stop.
These boots.
These boots are tan;
stained with the sandy dirt, sewage, and blood.
Not my blood.
That sentence makes me smile.
Not a smile energized with happiness,
rather gratefulness-for it wasn't me.
These boots have walked upon the Holy Land.
But I couldn't find anything holy about it.
These boots have become a part of me.
I have grown comfortable in these boots,
and they comfort me.
These boots carry me from place to place.
These boots have a story.
One they'll never tell.
AS
