Buttons
A button, one knows is held tightly by thread
Secured to its post unwavering, it’s said
That nothing, no nothing would wrest it apart
Or keep it from its dependable start.
Its lifetime, like ours is varied at best;
Too many buttons have been put to the test
Whether by stress, by anger or simply decay
Each thread of life was torn away.
Like surgeons we mend with patience pretend
To restore the bond to which we depend.
Our memories are woven, one thread at a time
Through various sizes some less than a dime.
We cherish and garner each stray away
Into glass jars we place them for another day.
So, cherish the thought that your buttons are taut
That nothing, no nothing remains so sought.
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