Walking In Daddy's Boots
I loved walking in daddy’s boots,
just to trample where he had been;
to track the path of prior roots
and then return them once again.
Some boots were old and some were new;
I loved walking in daddy’s boots.
I could have used any old shoe
but wasn’t fond of substitutes…
Grimy ones had great attributes,
they worked real hard to get that way.
I loved walking in daddy’s boots;
used for battlefield - bailing hay.
Daddy didn’t mind me wearing
if he could use them for commutes
and I didn’t at all mind sharing;
I loved walking in daddy’s boots…
Copyright © 2016 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fifth Place Winner ~ "Show Me Quatern Poetry" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Copyright © Caryl Muzzey