Boot Hill

Ah..... boot hill......a hill composed of discarded boots, I would assume.
Where do the sneakers go?  And dress shoes? The question does now loom.
And if your boots are Fryes, do you become the boss?
If you ever bought them, you know how damn much they cost.
If you're ever on the planet called earth,
And you want to see what history's worth.
I suggest a trip to Tombstone,
No, not pizza frozen,
But Tombstone, Arizona
The town Wyatt Earp had chosen.
The OK corral was, okay,
The Crystal Palace a bit better,
The haunted Birdcage Theatre
A must for the casual go-getter.

Walk the wooden streets of the past,
Trust me, it's a gas!!!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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