That term never rang so true.
The miles of joy, kilometers of torment.
The years of walking the world, wiser each step you took.
Your souls were worn.
They had put in their time.
Your laces were tattered but strong.
Frayed but resilient.
The dust that sparkled down through the years seemed to collect more on the inside.
The outside remained intact, almost cleaner than when you first found them.
You took care.
What are you to do, now, with all of those miles?