General

Upon the wooden planks was an aged pair of brown leather boots, and all the more beautiful for it. There was a softness in the creases, a paleness at the toe and a heel that had seen much countryside. I hadn't seen my love for so long, and it was odd to think of her so close yet out of sight. She must have come here in those boots, walked so many miles, seen so much. Yet I suppose we are like those boots, old and worn, well travelled, yet all the more loved for those signs that we have lived and served our purpose well.

General

The boots that took me across the highlands now sit in pride of place next to the hearth. The brown leather that is creased and weathered runs right up to just below my knee. The laces are frayed and the souls almost worn through, but they are a testament to the journey I made from the shipwreck back to the village. They still seep salt from time to time, but I take them and buff them with soft tan polish. They sit there to remind me of the fragility of my life and the strength of my spirit.

By robertgreen, October 22, 2014.
General

Mud caked her black leather boots, it felt like her feet were bleeding from walking so many miles. Creased and wrinkled from her travels on foot, she couldn't think which hurt more, her feet or her back. A twenty pound pack was slung over her shoulders and a weather worn guitar case was slung over her right shoulder. Her tank of a van ran out of gas, leaving her to walk the seven miles to the nearest gas station. At least she'd broken down in the rolling farmland of the English country side, so no unbearable heat, just the occasional sheep or cow in the middle of the dirt road.

By moonchild, March 15, 2016.