Non-Erotic PoetryOld bootsAh yes!
I remember now,
the comforting confinement
and familiar fit
retrieved from under
a jumble of jilted pumps
and summer sandals.
Looping laces frayed from use,
leather dry, stiff with salt,
caked and cracked
from lack of care.
Ridden hard and put away wet
but pulled from an unworthy end
just in time, buffed with love
to immaculate patina
ready to serve once more.
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