Unfinished

(Photo by yours truly)

Unfinished
By Butternose

Alone in a field, there stood a young tree.

There were limbs and leaves,

And it took more than once.

But I remember I climbed it,

Though it was tough as could be.

I seized it and I scratched it,

I hurt that young tree.

But when I got home, I found,

The tree had hurt me.

There were bruises and scrapes,

And blood that would stain.

I wasn’t sure what had happened,

I wasn’t sure I’d be the same.

Now time has passed, a great time for me,

Of love and of life, and of things yet to be.

I never went back to settle the score, but,

Alone in a field, there stands an old tree.

Spare Tire

Spare Tire

By Butternose

What is this roll?

Well, I don’t know.

Hmmm,

It’s new to me,

Let me think for a minute...

Did I wake up to find,

I have lost my mind?

Nope.

So, what is this roll?

I still don’t know.

Hmmm,

Just another minute…

Did I hide it before?

Yuck, maybe there’s more!

Still, what is this roll?

Oh wait, I know.

Hmmm…

How do I say, in so many words,

My body after thirty, is for the birds.