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A man sits alone on a park bench, Hands on knees, eyes to the ground. He decides to go for a walk. Rising slowly, he turns left. He begins at a steady pace. To one side, a bed of flowers. To the other side, a homeless man. He pauses to look at the flowers But does not take any notice of the homeless man. He walks on. There is a path to his right And a path to his left. The first is clean and bright The second is dark and littered. Although In the distance There is a mountain of gold. He ponders Then takes the path on the right. Walking through the piles of rubbish He notices something out of place A single buttercup Fragile and innocent Looking for help. But he does not stop Does not take the warning carefully into his mind. Does not consider What might have been If he had taken that buttercup Into his life. And as he walks away The gold disappears The litter grows And grows And grows And the buttercup that might have been Is gone forever. He is filled with memories And regret As his mind wanders Hands on knees, eyes to the ground Sitting on that park bench.
Buttercup
