by James Cole
My longing for you is rivalled only
By a longing to lace up my travel-boots,
Let their leathered soles lick up unfamiliar earth,
Tasting layers of dust piled between their grooves.
And sometimes, lethargic and lacking sleep,
My heart drives my soles towards your arms,
To the place where I can lay my boots, and
I am lifted off my feet.
But soon I must land on solid ground,
Let go the love of interlocked hands,
For the dust-laden soles of my leather boots
Share the longing that lies in my soul.
James Cole is an 18 year old medical student from Dublin, Ireland. He has been previously published in HEBE Poetry Magazine. He can be contacted on Twitter at: James_Cole0