Once in Britain
The summer was smitten
With rain pouring
My shoes ignoring.
He was in hospital,
Pain impossible.
I went to visit him -
We were a couple, team.
Boots in the shop window
Golden and simple,
No decoration. I bought –
No explanation.
Two weeks, a fortnight,
On by morning and off wet at night.
They served in bad weather
Lighter than a feather.
Out he went healthy,
We were not wealthy.
We had a wedding
And that is the last threading.
Isn’t that good
To commemorate the boot?
To My Golden Boots
© Copyright: Мария Фил-Бор, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115080305821
Свидетельство о публикации №115080305821
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