a loose button
hanging by a thread
incapable of serving
the one purpose
for which it
was stamped
surveying the
crevice in the couch
which will one day
be its resting place
with the other
lost mementos of
a life spent hiding

i am a button
hanging off of
god’s waistcoat
swaying over
an existence
no matter how
desperate i am
to be a part of
i will always
ba apart from
whispering to
the sparrows
all the things
i will never be
sending dreams
on feathered wings
knowing they are
doomed to be
returned to sender