Resole Yourself

I stand strong, comforted, powerful;

wearing my favorite pair of cowboy boots,

the leather just worn enough,

the stitching

is nestled aptly light against dark

like word scrawled in a diary,

retelling the adventures of where they’ve been,

in these boots I can look anyone in the eye

without fear of them seeing too deeply,

I treasure every wrinkle of their wear,

as I treasure every wrinkle on my brow

their character defines strife, happiness, indecision

etched like the creamy white loops of stitching

 on leather Raven’s black,

dusty as if just bathed in a pond,

thank God I can step into them,

and feel all that is missing;

I treasure them more

each time I pull them on;

contented knowing that

I can resole a pair of boots

but the moment I avoid your eye

the tales of my own lustre

chance fading;

and I cannot be resoled

 

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