My Old Shoe

by

Sam Loschiavo

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When new, my old shoe shone
It had purpose. It's stride was long
It took me where I wished to go
For countless kilometres
The years passed

Its skin began to wrinkle and fade and crack
No amount of creams and waxes could hide the years
Of wear and tear
It was down at the heel
And its tongue hung out
It lost its gloss and lost its spring
Holes appeared and it lost its sole
I miss my soul companion
It will be a tough shoe to fill
This old shoe of mine.