Mirror Shine

Sat on my couch, 

the usual spot, 

with last night's boots 

perched on the coffee table, 

I reach

for that well worn can 

of Lincoln's 

shoe polish.

It's a little ritual, 

everytime. 

I examine each scuff 

in my shine and 

try to remember 

its story.

Maybe

it came from that 

cute bear

who leaned in 

closer 

than he needed 

as he made his way 

past. Maybe 

it was that 

poor sick puppy 

who's had 

a few too many, 

a few too many 

times. Or

it could have 

been my own 

clumsiness, 

the odd thoughtless step. 

That's become 

more common 

than I care 

to admit. 

I guess 

that's just as likely, 

maybe moreso.

I have awhile 

to think about it. 

I'm particular 

about my shine, 

several layers, 

so much time, 

building and buffing, 

building and buffing.

I guess 

it doesn't matter 

where the scuffs 

came from. 

There's work to be done, 

regardless, and 

that work never ends. 

I know 

I'll be doing it again

soon enough, but 

it still feels worth doing. 

After all, 

the only way 

to keep your boots 

from getting scuffed 

is to leave them 

in the closet. 

I reach 

again 

for that well worn can 

of Lincoln's