The Wellies

Photo credit: Thomas Hawk / Foter / CC BY-NC

Photo credit: Thomas Hawk / Foter / CC BY-NC

They were new once, bright and shiny…
Could still look good
With some attention.

They’re useful when it rains
After a long dry spell
When puddles beg for stomping
When splashing is the only thing to do
When sloshing about is like singing
When mud covers the world for days
And you need to go from here to there

But Wellies don’t go to the ball
They don’t show up in dreams
They walk and wade through shit
Keep your toes clean
And know their place.

They take up space until needed.


Photo credit: abidavis / Foter / CC BY-ND


About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
This entry was posted in Inner child, Life, Pandora's box, Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

13 Responses to The Wellies

  1. Ode to Your Wellies and My Hiking Boots

            Glass slippers break and lacerate.
            Stiletto heels stick in a grate.

            Feet have no eyes to gawk at style.
            Feet just feel good boots (and smile).

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Katharine says:

    Sloshing about is like singing… Oh yes. May we slosh around in puddles one day soon…
    Time to send you an email 🙂


  3. PapaBear says:

    Hard to find a good pair of Wellingtons these days, Emm, and mine are nearly worn out !
    Happy Weekend !! 🙂


  4. john zande says:

    Love wellies! Take a look at this wellie dog, it’s fantastic

    Liked by 1 person

    • emmylgant says:

      Thank you for the link John, it is truly fantastic. I wouldn’t mind having it grace my garden! In this case it is taking the wellies to the ball, to the heart of fun and dreams. It is all the more special since my beloved Eros has taken a real bad turn, plagued by arthritis all along his spine and is struggling. A new crisis in the last two days has prevented me from from answering you in a timely way. Désolée mon ami.

      Liked by 1 person

      • john zande says:

        I’m sorry to hear that. He’s a big boy, isn’t he? Our Boris is huge, and at 10 or 11 (we’re not sure as he was abandoned) he’s approaching that time when the big boys start to fail.


        • emmylgant says:

          Yes Eros is a big German shepherd. The breed doesn’t live long especially pedigrees. He is only 8 and yet already arthritis is all over his spine. He has some really painful days. I feel so helpless then.

          Liked by 1 person

  5. Pingback: Smelly Wellies – a bit of Poe er Tree … for Emmy. – A Tale Unfolds

  6. ceayr says:

    As beautifully crafted and elegantly constructed as ever, Em, but I suspect your poem contains a deeper allegorical message.
    To lighten the mood:

    Liked by 1 person

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