[I decided not to give it a title]

So I'd originally written this for the Law School Lit Mag. Submitted it. Lets see how it goes. *Fingers crossed*


In fields of gold
Under the burning sun
We let our spirits soar
And we grew old
We grew as one
Walked out childhood’s door
And sitting by the firelight
Way past our prime, far beyond
Gnarled and old and spent
The voices in my head they went
These boots are meant for walking
For playing they are not.

Across the lands
So fair and free
Whose rivers fill with blood
We walk in bands
In files of three
Our feet feel like wood
The children dead, their mothers weep
Their homes burnt, still burning
Chaos, wrought thus we
And in my head, they say to me
These boots are meant for walking
For fighting they are not.

In secret nooks
Whispered goodbyes
Hurried glances full of stealth
Poems scribbled in old books
As time flies by
Return to haunt us both
Forbidden love, so sweet its taste
So dangerous, So cruel, So vile
Letting you live, yet leaving you dead
The voices, they said, inside my head
These boots are meant for walking
For loving they are not

And time flew by
Till everything turned cold
Seasons changed, years grew on
The lakes, the rivers, the sky
Stayed as old
The frogs continued to spawn
I did but walk all my life
Away from all I ever wished
Till the fire of my heart was stilled
Then the secret, the voices, they spilled
These boots are meant for walking
Yet for walking they are not.