Karen writes: Old runners

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Old runners

We have shared so many miles
These old running shoes and me
We’ve slogged, plodded and rambled
With an occasional trotting spree

We’ve explored so many places
Towns, cities, familiar and strange
Traversed everlasting beaches
Busy roads we’ve run in the drains

Galloping across muddy paddocks
Pounding the lonely bush track
Startling the cows and the sheep
In hot, wind, wet, cold and night black

I’ve gotten greyer, but fitter
My shoes, they have just gotten old
No longer royal purple and white
No longer supportive and bold

They sit on the doorstep inertly
Tongues hanging out in despair
As the new model trots past with pride
I think they deserve more, faithful pair

So I’ve planned a funeral ceremony
They won’t retire to the black rubbish sack
But be planted by the garden wall
So thankyou old friends, and good luck


KP

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