Boots
I looked down at the boot tray, at the empty, dirty spot where a large pair once stood.
I thought of the old farmers who work until they are as old as the dirt they tend.
I thought of the young farmers, the sons — taken by unjust wars, city life, traveling circuses.
I looked down at the boot tray, at the empty, dirty spot where a large pair once stood.
And then I looked down at my feet. Oh yeah, I’m wearing those boots! Never mind!
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