A Shoe Biography

A child will not hesitate to venture off into the world,
And she'll bring me alongside with her in her journey.
Carefully, she wedges her small, delicate feet
Into my gaping, toothless mouths and fastens my thin, long arms.
Running through the woods among the sloppy terrain,
I feel the mud and freshly-fallen leaves dirty my sole,
Yet her young spirit is enough to arouse my soul.
Though I possess a tongue that has no use,
A mere label my Creator embedded saying "Chuck Taylor"
I still long to taste the breeze of this cool, autumn day.
The child does not judge my appearance,
Although a fine pair of partly decomposed animal skins.
Nor does she mind my smell of mice nests,
An odor magnified by ten rainy days.
Our every step shall be in sync with one another,
Gradually drawing our experiences in her memory
And mine in the form of tears, rips, and fraying
As she displays my battle wounds proudly in school.
But what use are books to her when it is possible to discover
The wonders of her life on earth,
And still beyond of things to come?
Someday she will grow tired of me,
If she doesn't grow out of me first.
My days are numbered and my soles are about to give out,
When I'll retire in the trash can and make way for my replacement.

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