On their feet

On their feet, I was adorned,

a symbol of pride, I become,

when I protected, master's life,

was celebrated, since I performed. 

In the era of wars, I was made,

durable enough to withstand,

the pressures of rough terrains,

facing constant wear and tears. 

My brethren perished following years,

yet, I survived, with few scratches,

for, my master, provided due care,

in the polishing, and any repairs. 

Returning home, I was displayed,

badge of honor, from the brigade,

watching master's family grew,

more lives entered, over decades. 

From braving the explosions,

to walking on sharp fragments,

my days mellowed, without actions,

only be seen, as object of fascination. 

I was forgotten, kept in storage,

until teenage son, had to rummage,

to flaunt power, or for style statement,

wearing me in functions, with his date. 

I watched him laugh, fall in love,

part of his struggles, find his job,

getting married, my work is done,

so was left outside, in shoe stand. 

Once a proud shoe, now abandoned,

I still remember, being part of adventures,

from dusty shelves, I still have glimpses,

as tiny hands extends, to take a peek. 

May be, there's more...

I could be!