In Shoes Like These ...
I’ve stumbled over rock and root,
torn fabric holes and worn out soles,
the dirt and fraying scars from days
spent pounding roads or rutted track,
while eager laced, I ran on routes
from which there was no turning back;
those proper runs, in shoes like these.
I’ve pushed old limestone crag beneath
this body. I’ve compelled the world,
with cadence eating up dead weights
of daily chains that drag and snag
the rhythms of a mind where thought
and distance coalesce to fade
those binding cares, in shoes like these.
I’ve sought clean air by quiet lakes,
the stuff that flows through passing trees.
I’ve run on high and low terrain,
through woods, on fells and ancient hills,
where clearer views, perceived as real,
revealed such hidden sentinels
that raised the skies, in shoes like these.
I’ve forded streams, I’ve plodded, pushed
the limits, as fresh rivulets
of rain have blended on tired skin
with sweat, heart synchronised with breath
hard-earned; a soul in flight made free,
refocused in the rush of dreams
where space combines with time and peace,
in shoes like these.