Squish!
The mud pulled on my Keds,
each step stretching tired muscles.
Slurp!
Moisture began skipping up my jeans;
the cuffs slowly becoming bricks of clay.
OOMPH!
The septic marsh was winning.
My legs no longer willing to even try.
Sigh!
Strong arms tug me twice and
I leave behind a beloved red shoe…
The price paid for a journey attempted.
The depiction of labored movement in this poem is nicely done. Your imagery here is strong: “cuffs slowly becoming bricks of clay”