The Old Man and the Button Tree

When put in front of flowing stream

Like I’m walking round in dream

I love this place but I just can’t stay

Fretting on the thoughts of day.

 

How bold is this when tree branch falls

And stones once cold are warming all

To find out that this is less than that that

Which sparks reminders of a fattening cat.

 

How quaint were the words that the old man spoke

By claiming that they were not stuck in his throat

When we glanced all around and we caught our eyes

Glinting in the knowing and accepting his lies.

 

So we smiled all day and all through the night

Behaving much better than we would in the light

So we walked home through the sun and the rain

And we wondered when things would be good again.

 

So we both agreed as we both shook hands

That once more on this path to the sands

Would we meet again when the moon doth shine

And we dropped buttons as a mark of a sign.

 

Then those buttons grew and they became a large tree

The branches of which threw up less honesty

Than the old man’s words which were not quite wrong

But they were not right, merely riddles overlong.

 

© Kris Blackburn 01/03/13

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