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Making the boots fit

Each morning she pulls
herself out of bed
with a shiver and a sigh
simply drops her head
to face today and all the
tomorrows full of dread.
Age is glorious it's
beautiful never vain
and no mater how much
we hate it, it advances again
each day brings wisdom and doubt
and she wakes a bit more insane.
Wisdom and glory come of a
devestating cost,
it seems as our minds
expand our limbs become lost
beneath pillows we lose ourselves
like trying to find a window under frost.
And a pair of well worn leather
boots lie in the corner
will they work or not, as she pulls
and tugs and hopes for the former
with the zipper pulled 3/4ths up
because they just won't fit.

Cow goes Moo

shuffling along the ice
in my too-small
heart covered rain-boots
along with the other
thousands shuffling along
being pushed with the flow
someone breaks away
and pushes into me
ow!
then I proceed shuffling
as to not be trampled
as I move
I become angry
forced to walk in
a line-a formation
I stop and yell
at the sky
MOOO
and then shuffle on
as I reflect
I think-at least
there aren't any whips