SHOES

Shoes, so it is you;
only you, to whom my
Journeying Eye must
thankgaze; as avenues
raise the crops of vision
before our very soles; yours
a little tenderised by the
meating pavement bores; mine
used to the resilience of
bedroom chores.
Yes, Shoes it is you i wish
to thank; for without your
laced up toughness, never
could my soul have become a
kind of bank, filled with
the turquoise frost of the
barrier-pickings; gathering
into my impatient Harvesting-
Hopes; the youth that into
Manhood has strolled; together tomorrow’s
snow we shall tether,
from sickness-cold;

O Shoes, my dayling
companions;

Let’s be bold.