These Old Shoes

by stewart

Each morning when I awake

I sit at the edge of my bed,

Bend, and slowly lace up my shoes.

These have grown old

Through much ware;

Now a little tattered and faded,

The brown leather no longer flexes

Like it once did.


Some mornings the leather is soft

And on colder days, I have to pull slowly

To make them fit.

These old friends have taken me

On many a journey.

Together we have danced and run

Long through the summer night.


Now the days are much shorter

And the journey fills with cold;

The sun light slips away

And one day soon, these old shoes

Will be replaced by a newer pair.

They say the new ones slip on;

Are much lighter, adorned by gold

And are soft like wings,

So I might jump and fly high again.


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