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Those old boots, with their worn heals

And the cracks across the toes

From the miles walked in the garden.

Those old boots that lean more than sit

At the kitchen door

Wait for the next mile to be covered.

I can still hear the words

From that gravely voice

"Clothes is one thing,

But a good pair of boots

Is all one needs to get by."

Every time the ground was worked

The seed was sown

The crops were harvested

Those boots carried the soul

And it's funny

How I didn't notice them so much

As now since their wearer has died.

And it makes me wonder

Who cared for whom more

The boots for the wearer

Or she for the boots.