They stomp through rain with a scowl in their sole,
Dragging the weight of a world they control.
Muddy and cracked, with edges all frayed,
Grumpy Boots never danced, never swayed.
They mutter in puddles, they curse at the snow,
Refuse to be polished, refuse to let go.
Tucked in the closet, they sulk in the dark,
Dreaming of sidewalks but missing the spark.
No one remembers the hikes that they braved,
The fields that they crossed, the steps that they paved.
Once proud and bold with a spring in their tread,
Now they just grumble and shuffle instead.
But deep in the leather, a memory stays—
Of laughter and songs and bright summer days.
So maybe one morning, with sun on the floor,
Grumpy Boots might walk proud and happy once more.