Muddy Soles

by Miriam Priborkina

They were dragged through the mud

the leaves, that is.

Neither vibrant nor crisp in the Autumn air,

Just dull and wet,

Like the soles of my shoes.

They were soiled

So I picked them up and took them home.

Mama howled at me.

“They brought mud in!” she said,

Pointing at the leaves in my hand.

I looked down at my soles

Currently ridden of filth

All clean

As she held her head in her hands

A capitulation.

Soon my leaves wilted more.

They were no longer nice and soft.

The house was brown

With the mud they brought.

It was ok

I could always clean.

I still collect murky leaves

I do not think you would get it.

Yes, they ruin my home

Yes, they look bad

But are they not deserving of appreciation?

They went through so much.

What is a little mud in my home?

It was worse for them.

Now my soles remain murky




Oh no!

A miscalculation

But that is ok

There’s always a new pair