I feel sad for the Daffodills
blooming in their box on a shelf,
confined to the supermarket walls
never to be delicately placed in a vase
never to complete a table,
or bring a smile to a face lightened by the spring sun.
I wonder, do they feel?
I feel sad for the birthday cake,
that has reached it’s sell by date
and now sits lost, alone, reduced
never to see the smile of the birthday guest
illuminated by the delicately placed candles
with eyes swimming with the possibility of a wish
as the small whips of smoke carry their secret to the wind.
I feel sad for their sake.
I feel sad for the last lonely creature in the pet store,
spinning endlessly in his little wheel
wondering where his brothers have gone
and where too, he’ll be going soon
as the distorted faces press against the window of his world
quickly disinterested, quickly moving on,
saving their excited squeals for another.
I wonder, do they want more?
I feel sad for the discarded toys,
abanoned on the charity shop floor,
rememering the love of a childs grip,
a grip that has now grown too old for such love
and so with a 50pence sticker -perhaps there is a price for love-
they wait, hoping to light up the eyes of a new child,
whilst dreading to start the process of love to loss, all over again.
I feel sad for the lost loves of girls and boys.
I feel sad for the browning Christmas tree,
as time races towards the 25th,
with dropping branches, naked without the baubles
that it was born to display.
Nothing surrounding it’s trunk but the discarded needles
of it’s fellows who found a home and presents to protect.
I wonder, why didn’t we leave it be?