O boot, you have borne me uncomplainingly through many adventures. Alas, your time has now ended. No more shall we traipse through burning wastes, frigid rivers or darkling woods. Never again will you carry me stumbling into camp after an arduous scramble/hike/death march. My terror will no longer shake your laces when I attempt something ridiculously dangerous. The earth cries out at your death, and I am greatly saddened. I have lost a great friend, and your mate is inconsolable with grief. But fear not, for I celebrate your existence, and I will lay you to rest on tongues of glorious flame.
But who, who shall carry the torch? What boot could possibly fill the gaping void left by your demise?