Ode to the Wildflower Meadow Boots
Oh, boots of light, yet shadow-bound,
In your pale skin, the dark is found.
A meadow bright, yet steeped in night,
Where ghosts of blooms flicker from sight.
Soft as the moon’s pale gleam, you tread,
Where silver whispers softly thread.
Each step upon the earth’s dark core,
Awakens what was lost before.
Vegan leather, light as dawn,
Yet in your stride, the dusk is drawn.
A quiet force, a subtle flare,
With every step, a secret prayer. ...