This pair of Roman sandals

This is about my obsession towards my Roman sandals and hiking.

is the most comfortable,
convenient purchase of my
21st year on Earth.
I am not fond of high heels
or ballet flats,
I prefer comfort over beauty.

Fine, it makes me look like a good Samaritan on a mission.
I may not be a Samaritan or sometimes good.
But, I’m always on a mission.
Walking to the supermarket,
swaggering through the aisles of vegetables and fruits.
Walking to the library,
quietly walking through aisles of books
about baking, poetries and fiction.
After all the walks,
this pair of Roman sandal leaves blisters on my soles
the way your insults would mark my soul.

The insults they hurt like a rose thorn pricking a finger.
In time, they heal and becomes another thing I can tick off the list.
The blisters, well they hurt too and stays longer than I hope.
But, it makes its presence known.

Than annoying, tickling sensation when walking
on wet concrete,
sandy beaches,
muddy grass fields,
asphalt walk paths
and rocky hills.

The pair doesn’t cope well in the rain;
the colour fades,
wrinkles form and
*CAUTION*
Slippery when wet!

I need a new pair soon so we can build
new blisters and go to new adventures . . .