The Button

There was a button on the ground

Displaced among the Fall leaves

And no one around to tell

Of my charming discovery.

I bent to pick it up frowning

Its little homeless face was scratched.

It used to be useful,

Tied in and tucked into its hole.

It probably fell unmissed

Until that embarrassing moment when

The button must be accounted for.

I understood the button’s discarded feeling as my own

For I had once been a glue too.

I once held together a home, but

I too, had been untethered.

I too await that vindicating moment I will never see

The embarrassing one where they will have to account

For why they no longer have me.

Well, button, I’ll hold you and wait

For the occasion will come when I’ll have the hole you’ll fit

And the occasion will come when one will stitch me in

To hold a family together again

The way I tried to years ago

When leaves fell dead about the ground

And there was no relation

To hold my scratched face.