Poem :: Boots

Brown laced-up boots scuffed with life lived laden with stories
Excited as they dance not in sync with morning-glories
Inside, toes wriggling ready for adventures
Presence compensate masked silent words and pictures 

Without care or responsibility of the other, life ponders 
To go to wherever the wind blows
And may return when and if the desert snows
Stay until love for the unacquainted grows
Whereby with eyes closed, sound and scent complete the puzzles
 
For years the index finger traced dusty new maps
Travel opportunity arrived and seized with giant steps
The boots walk now on the dust trails left by that finger
Priceless God's gifts beckon them to linger