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These boots are alive and old

What a fine couple they make, these boots of mine.

Matt black, with scuffs and scrapes; they have served

me well, having only changed the laces once in five years.

Inside, they’re a little worn, but the new insoles have helped.

Feeling a traitor, I strolled into the Doc shop, to perhaps

purchase a new pair. If boots could cry, I could’ve jumped in

the puddles. Imagine my dismay, when I was told that

the black Cecilia boot has been discontinued; I’m sure

that I heard squeals of delight from below. I left the shop,

and my feet somehow felt as if they had wheels on; a

lightness and ease as I walked down Princess street.

Although getting old, these worn out boots have acquired

an air of confidence that I haven’t seen in them for years.

They seem to know that they are irreplaceable. Sometimes

they whisper to each other, especially as they sit next to

the monkey boots, who have never managed to replace them,

as my essential comfortable companions. I’m sure I heard the sound of,

‘Oh Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart.’ Who plays music at 2am?

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