I'm proud of my boots.
My dad told me to buy them,
The ones just like his.
So I listened.
He works hard,
Hard enough to crack the skin,
Swear loudly,
And never get the dirt
Out of his nails and the whorls
Of his work-stained hands.
He told me to buy them because
They hold up in bogs, ponds, and farms.
They're snow-proof, mud-proof,
Heavy-treaded, lined, and warm.
They're as tough as nails.
As tough as him.
This life is trying out my boots,
Trying me out and wearing me in.
I am those boots now, sweaty
With bitemarks on my edges,
Worn and tough and muddy.
I stand up straight like those boots
Even after the worst day
and I think that someday,
I will be as tough as nails.
As tough as him.
YOU ARE READING
Big Eyes
PoetryPoems from my path across the United States as I attempt to heal and find my family. ***my mother and I have reconciled. We're good, you shouldn't worry.
