Boots

When I got out of bed this morning
a pair of boots stood on the stairs.
I don’t know to whom they belonged
or how they happened to be there.

The black boots looked large and heavy,
slightly worn, so not new or old.
The laces were long and tucked inside
and the tongue had a forward fold.

They looked really soft and comfortable,
and I couldn’t resist trying them on.
They slipped onto my feet oh so easily,
and in an instant I was up and gone.

I couldn’t do anything to stop them,
they had taken control of me.
I ran all through the day and night,
with no breakfast, dinner or tea.

I was totally exhausted and tired,
and was running in my sleep.
I awoke running along a forest path
and then up a hill so steep.

I could hear the sound of water
and ran down the riverbank.
The water wasn’t going to give way,
so I very quickly sank.

As I continued along the pebbly bottom
I very quickly ran out of breath.
My feet came out of the sodden boots
and I swam from the water’s depth.

I suppose those boots are still running
and they’re probably now out at sea.
I know that I’ll never again try on boots
that don’t belong to me.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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