Dear Cowboy Boots,

We met today and I just don't think my life will ever be the same. My friend introduced us at the thrift store and my heart skipped a beat as my outstretched hand slid around your tan suede exterior. Tears of unbridled joy nearly fell from my eyes as I slipped my foot into your lined innards; as my heel locked into place I knew this was it--- the last piece to my puzzle.
A match made in second-hand, heart-ache Heaven. How anyone ever let you go, I'll never know. Serendipitous moments are hard to come by nowadays. But there you were, slightly battered and bruised, discarded for some "new" shoe fetish I suppose. There I was a lonely cynic searching for something I didn't really believe existed anymore. The amount on your tag spelled priceless.
We left the store together, you on my feet and as I stepped onto the cement I realized something that made me love you even more . . . your click. We clicked all the way down the street, a harmonious symphony of our love, a soundtrack to build our lives together. Look out world, these boots were made for walking.

Sincerely,
Cindy Mayweather