They have carried me, through time, over months and years.
They have walked along sandy shores, rocky beaches and grassy knolls.
They walked me down the aisle to my husband.
Horses have stepped on them, they have stepped on rusty nails and shards of glass.
They have carried me into and out of hospitals with the births of our children.
They pound the ground, chasing after squealing giggles
or elusive numbers on a scale.
They have walked across the {now} dirt sky of friends and family that have gone on.
They have burned on sun baked stones and cooled in mossy brooks.
They have walked me across stages and danced me across rooms.
They have been cooed over and tickled.
They have been pinched and blistered in shoes and luxuriated, barefoot, in the lush grasses of Ireland.
They have been beaten, abused, neglected and still they march on.
They have been and they will be.
30 years, 10,950 days; over a million times have they
been slapped to the ground, ever on ward.

~on the occasion of my 30th birthday