#EmptyShoes

The leather creaks, a whispered sigh,
Of journeys past, beneath a fading sky.
These shoes, a relic, worn with grace,
A silent witness, time's swift embrace.
First donned by youth, with dreams so bright,
They danced the night, beneath the moon's soft light.
A lover's touch, a whispered vow,
Each step a memory, cherished somehow.
Then passed to hands, weathered and strong,
A farmer's tread, where he toiled all day long.
The...