All that Remains ...
All that remains number but few
a mangled scooter for one ....
hidden from view but for all to see
the havoc one mistake had done.
For years on tree bark did knelt
supporting its maple trunk, broadly hewn.
Fearful was I that if memory felt
would be cast to the wind if strewn.
When he rode it home that first night ...
a "giant" astride a motor ride small.
So incongruous was, the contrast did seem,
what lay ahead ... that would us soon befall.
To part with this relic
would I not his memory betray?
An anguished decision, but I let it go
lest inadvertantly I myself slay.
Unlike the verdancy of grass,
that withers so soon fast.
Stubborn remembrance defiantly stay
the course of time ... long last.
Alan D. Busch