AN OLD SHOE

This old shoe,
worn in the everyday places,
bulges and spaces
with lines of time-worn creases,
like a bothered brow.

Here a nick and scrape
on the top and toe,
but still brown as suntan,
weathered as days,
tough as resolve
that will bear as before.

This heel scuffed
by scores of miles,
this sole that stood,
trampled rocky roads,
red-carpet aisles,
jumps and hops,
stops and starts,
the long rides, the shoe shines.

The laces frayed,
knotted and winding down,
struggle to bind the cover
to throbbing, moving things.

This old shoe, nonetheless,
well used,
has played in all the games,
accepted all the plots,
paced as the willing waned
and the cowards crawled,
walked fast
though pained ways,
past dark days,
danced in delight to the rhythm
of a clock’s shuffle tock.

This old shoe.
Toss it. Closet.
Live with it
one more day.