I press the wax against the grain.
I wash away the winter stain.
The heavy mallet hits the sole.
I feel the rhythm take control.
[Pre-
The morning air is sharp and cold.
The stories of the street unfold.
Buff the leather till it glows.
Watch the yellow sunlight flow.
Count the footsteps on the street.
Feel the steady drumming beat.
I see the attic window pane.
The glass is streaked by last night's rain.
The copper polish smells of pine.
I trace the stitching in a line.
[Pre-
The morning air is sharp and cold.
The stories of the street unfold.
Buff the leather till it glows.
Watch the yellow sunlight flow.
Count the footsteps on the street.
Feel the steady drumming beat.
A pair of boots from far away.
They bring the salt of every bay.
I scrub the mud from every seam.
The polished surface starts to gleam.
Buff the leather till it glows.
Watch the yellow sunlight flow.
Count the footsteps on the street.
Feel the steady drumming beat.
The clock is ticking on the wall.
The golden beams begin to fall.
I count the people passing by.
Beneath a wide and open sky.
Buff the leather till it glows.
Watch the yellow sunlight flow.
Count the footsteps on the street.
Feel the steady drumming beat.
The leather softens in my hand.
The finest hide from distant land.
I lock the door and dim the light.
The boots are ready for the night.
Golden leather, golden light.
Steady drumming, out of sight.
