Teddybear

 

At first I only saw the flowers,

Like rich brocade, a wayside alter,

The bright of nature, sweet in air,

That caused my onward step to falter.

 

But then my gaze fell to the toys,

The string and tape that held them there,

Festooning all to a crash scarred tree.

And crying out for the world to care.

 

I did not stop to read the notes,

That cruel rain had blurred to scrawl,

But walking on reviewed the scene,

And wondered do we care at all.

 

The tree still unforgiving stands,

And will another hundred years,

While wife or mother waits and weeps,

And wraps herself in happened fears.

 

With quickening step I cross the road,

But can’t resist the backward glance,

The wind has skirled the marigolds,

And set the teddy bear to dance.

 

A masque macabre, a cabaret,

A puppet master to the spheres,

The bear performs its pirouette,

While no one looks and no one hears.

 

And strangely I am forced to smile,

As blood is quickened through each vein,

I hear from deep inside my soul,

A keening song that brings me pain.

 

The tree is scarred and I am too,

Diminished, damaged, and amazed,

But yet without the mortal shock,

I feel the man within me raised.

 

These shrines adorn our city streets,

But flowers fade, corrupt and die,

And all will be as it has been,

When memories are just a lie.

 

For we are only fading blooms,

And toys that dance to the wind of change,

Tied to our tree by a greater hand,

And plans the fates can’t re-arrange.