Ode to My Shoes Which, After 3,843 Kilometers/9,607,500 Steps, Have Never Given Me a Blister

Set out in Cymru when winter began,
Now here in Deutschland as it settles in again.
From days of plenty to catch as catch can,
This is where I must leave you.

Whether walking with new friends or running for trains;
Often soaked to the bone in torrential rains
At wearier times when only dry feet remains,
Now this is where I must leave you.

I tossed out two shirts in the Valley of Rhondda,
Then gave up the diet when we arrived in Verona.
Even abandoned the razor when we left Ljubljana,
And this is where I must leave you.

Through markets and squares and new foods devoured;
Sunrises and sets, feeling either weak or empowered;
Through all trials of these choices, wanderlust lives unsoured,
Now this is where I must leave you.

Your now worn, now old but reliable sole
Has helped breathe new life into my own rejuvenated soul.
And ever so grateful am I for your part in my life’s new role,
But now, lamentably, this is where I must leave you.

—- Lisa Troglin

IMG_5731.jpeg