Pining Road Ends Poem by Mark Heathcote

Old -shoes, how many roads have I walked?  
How many cul-de-sacs have we entered?  
Only to turn back and have our view of this world warped
We all need to be centred and mentored.

How many, numerous boils have blistered?
Old -shoes, how many times have I knotted you?  
And turning away all alone, whispered-
Shhhh, my lonesome heart, don't weep, say adieu?  

It won't be long till our pining road ends.
Guess, if it can be mend-best to make do.
Ah old -shoes I'll put a few dry cardboard shreds
In the toes of you; my old trusty friends.

No falling out; that's our last epitaph.
There'll be blisters, bleeding, and pus.
We've got a long journey ahead of us.
But for us, there'll be no blocked impasse.