A New Pair of Boots

by Rod Nichols

A small dusty town down in Texas,
a boot shop I nearly passed by,
a new pair of boots in the window,
I thought I would give ’em a try.

While waitin’ the owner’s return soon
a bootblack had shown me a chair,
inquirin’ while I was just waitin’
could he give a shine to my pair.

With nuthin’ to do for the moment
I nodded and said,”Go ahead.
They’re old and they’re worn and the leather
is thin as the hair on my head.”

He laughed at my passin’ remarks then,
I don’t think that he disagreed,
he wiped off the dust of a lifetime
to see what them old boots would need.

He started by cleanin’ the leather,
some sort of soap I suppose,
a mixture that foamed to a lather
applied from the top to the toe.

Then after the cleanin’ was done with
another soft soap was applied,
them old leather uppers felt softer
and I felt new life from inside.

Then on went a new rub of polish,
not with a brush but by hand,
I’m tellin’ you now it was somethin’
the care and the touch of that man.

A cloth with a “Pop” for the shinin’,
a heel and sole dressin’ to close,
I sat there in awe for a moment
before he backed off and I rose.

The owner returned at that moment
regrettin’ that he had been gone,
he asked if I wanted some boots then,
“Yes sir. Just the ones I got on.”

A small dusty town down in Texas,
a boot shop I nearly passed by,
a lesson I learned from a bootblack
I’ll carry the rest of my life.

(A special note to Rod Nichols: Many, many thanks for all the poems you’ve given us over the years. There will always be room for one more.)