My Sole
I've worn a hole in my sole,
On this old shoe of me,
Before its time is due,
I can clearly see.
It put holes my sock,
Blown in the wind,
To let me know,
What direction I be in.
For there ain't no shoe leather,
Can stand the scuff of time.
Eventually, wears through,
Exposing more than sole,
But the fate of mine.
Oh, my sole,
You have traveled so far.
All across this great land,
Living far above par.
Even around the world,
In one fabulous fling.
That few get to experience,
The full circle ring.
Meeting toe to toe,
Kindred all the way,
Just like you or I,
Living day to day.
My sole is not weary,
Though getting wore out.
Like a life well lived,
I have no doubt.
Adlai Stevenson Bares His Sole Wikipedia Commons
A Pulitzer Prize Winning photo of Adlai Stevenson
on the presidential campaign trail back in 1952
against Dwight D. Eisenhower. Back in the day when
candidates walked neighborhoods knocking on
doors asking for votes.
From about 1985 to 1993 when I quit walking my left
foot began to drag even with a brace to keep my foot
from dropping. I wore out the heels and toes on the
composite soles of my expensive dress shoes, having
to get those soles repaired several times. I finally
started buying five-dollar shoes at Novo Progresso,
Mexico, whenever I visited my parents in McAllen.
They were leather soles and wore out in three months.
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Copyright 2026 © Ronald W. Hull
10/222/26
It's in the Water and Other Stories
American Mole: The Vespers
