A poem to my boots

To the boots;

the ones that have been, for so long, an extension of myself,

those boots that wrapped themselves so perfectly around
these insect ankles- when none other would fit. To the boots that helped me trudge my way in comfort; that withstood sun and yet still let in air, that braced the rain without damp without wear, even if once a year it still needed its zippers repaired. To the boots that made a mountain goat out of me, as I walked up crumbling rocks so carelessly; knowing they would hold and keep my feet exactly where they needed to be,
To the boots that survived everyday for 3 years and still looked fresh enough to wear hiking or dancing or climbing or to my graduation. Yes, the boots that pulled through on every occasion,
-that never left my socks damp or my feet or ankles in a cramp.
Yes: those perfect boots. That let me trudge and stomp and hop everywhere in confidence without a care,
That now I can’t find again anywhere! And so-
I think I will repair your zippers -yet again.

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