Boot Heaven

Just got my old boots re-soled again. Probably the fourth time for this pair. My mother gave them to me over 30 years ago. I didn't like the style or color. They aren't expensive (Acme), or fancy. I've had many other pairs over the years, more expensive and much prettier. But none have ever been so comfortable, so familiar. They were so bad off this time, I didn't think I'd find someone to rework them. But alas, they are again "good as old." What joy to find pleasure in such little gifts.

I'd prefer the first line didn't smack of works righteousness - even for boots - but this poem captures the love for old "soles."

Pastor H.

Boot Heaven

by Rod Nichols


There's a place I just know where worn-out boots go 
and it's sort of a heaven for soles,


'cause they've faithfully done all was asked of them son, 
and remember for whom those boots tolled.

In hard times and storm they kept our feet warm
 and with comfort we won't soon forget,


so it don't seem quite right at the end of their life
 they'd be tossed aside and that's it.

No, I see a table in some heavenly stable
 where a bootmaker angel resides,


just tapping away through the nights and the days 
restoring them tattered old hides.

He pauses a bit and then gives 'em a hit 
til the soles and the heels look brand new,


then he redoes the leather and pulls 'em together
 and smiles to himself when he's through.

I can see them boots now in a showroom somehow 
with a heavenly host gathered 'round,


it's a shop don't you know where cowboys can go 
and a pair of old friends can be found.