The Button

The button sits alone on the shelf,

Forlorn, forgotten and gathering dust,

But biding its time.

Once it was part of a garment, perhaps

Or maybe a bag, some useful object,

Now it is lost.

Yet it’s bright colour still shines through,

And with a bit of care, you would see its gloss again,

And its purpose.

Keeping a child safe from the winter cold,

Something to fiddle with when bored at school,

A bright shape in the middle of grey fabric,

Or even on a shoe.

There is something profound about a small object that has such meaning

And can spark memories of previous days,

Yet also be re-imagined into something new.