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