Classic memory land images

IF OLD BOOTS COULD TALK — Poem

Pulled off the shelf I smelled so new,

Glad the cowboy had picked me instead of an old shoe.

Pulling me onto his feet,

Gazing at the mirror thinking these are really neat.

 

Tossing me in the old truck for my first ride,

Never again did I leave his side.

On Saturday night the dance we did go,

Keeping time with the band whether fast or slow.

 

Later that night as I stood next to his bed,

Reflecting back on all that was said,

Nice pair of boots I heard all to say,

Get for work or just for play?

 

Use them for all he did reply,

Nice design that caught my eye.

Early next morning when he slipped me on,

Going outside before the break of dawn.

 

Walking to the room that was filled with tack,

Grabbing the saddle to throw on the Bronc’s back.

Sliding into the stirrups I was filled with glee,

Knowing what a ride I was about to see.

 

Pitching and bucking with a crow hop or two,

Staying in the saddle was all I could do.

When the tantrum was over and he began to run,

Hard work now over, time for some fun.

 

Down to a walk as the horse was now spent,

Wherever he would go I also went–

House, barn, pasture, and over to check the well;

By end of day I had quite a smell.

 

Scrubbing and cleaning me was just a starter,

Fresh as could be as it’s only grass and water.

Years passed by growing old together,

Protecting each other from the affects of the weather.

 

On a trip into town,

I really got down.

A shiny new pair he did buy;

Now I sit in the closet wanting to cry.

 

Only going when the job is dirty,

So the new ones will remain purty.

 

If old boots could talk, you would hear them say:

“For years I was his favorite for him to boast,

Now I’m just a hat for this old post.”

 

By John Peeper

 

 

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