The old boot was tattered
and worn down at heel
no sign of any cobblers pride
polished into it.
Torn toe cap, discarded laces,
fading, discoloured.
Yet many a mile
had passed comfortably
beneath its tread.
It was the boot he chose to wear,
with its brother on the other foot.
Why bother to wear a more
durable younger pair he thought.
For the old worn boots
always brought him
the attention he sought.
He enjoyed letting the world know
how hard done by he had been in life
and was rewarded by the warmth
of the sympathy which followed.
Lately though, he sensed
some people had begun to see him for
the sympathy seeking thing he\'d become.
Maybe he had let them see
too much of his loving family,
comfortable home and career.
Perhaps the comfort of sympathy
had eased him into revealing his duplicity.
Or was it simply about time
he stopped whinging about the past
and began to praise the world around him
for all the richness it brought to him.
How hard would it be to stop
wallowing in the shadow of yesterday
and step into the light of promise.