You could never have know, what your purpose would be,
As you started your life as the seed of a tree.
Warm sunshine shone down onto rich gentle earth,
And a singular shoot marked your mystical birth.
You grappled to reach through the soil, for the sky,
Rooted firmly in place as the world rushed on by.
The years scurried past and seasons evolved,
As life’s endless cycle around you revolved.
The earth and the rain made you tall, strong and grand,
Stood proud in the woods over which you’d command.
But one day, it happened, by chance or by storm,
From your home and your tree, you were brutally torn,
And you fell to the earth laying still on the ground,
As the undergrowth gripped you, and moss grew around,
You stayed there a while as the frosty winds blew,
And you watched in despair as the other trees grew.
Then the silence was pierced by a loud shrieking sound,
With a start, you were grasped, and dragged up from the ground.
Once more, you were proud, as you reclaimed command,
And you found a new home in a little girl’s hand.
You were damp, and decaying and starting to rot,
But your loving new owner could not give a jot!
You rejoiced in your mission, held tight in her grip,
To poke in the puddles and help her not slip.
You flew through the air and you glanced past the trees.
You were thwacked against rocks (and The Smaller Boy’s knees).
You were no longer useless, abandoned, alone.
But now ruling the world from your five-fingered throne!
And she ran through the leaves with you covered in mud!
… And then fell on her face, with a crack and a thud.
The two of you ended your story right there,
As the little girl’s parents wiped mud from her hair.
You were mortally wounded, with nothing to do.
You remained on the forest floor, snapped clean in two.
And the little one sobbed and she wailed, quite bereft,
As her poor little stick, was abandoned and left.
She mourned you at volume, quite helpless with grief.
And could not be consoled with more sticks or a leaf.
You were clearly her soulmate? Her twig and her friend.
She admired your bark and the fact you don’t bend.
You apparently forged quite a deep rooted bond,
As you foraged through sludge in the murky duck pond.
And although you had literally broken apart,
You had claimed a new home in that little girl’s heart.
So for hours she continued to shriek and to moan,
‘Til the grown ups
lost their sh*t grew weary and took The Girl home.
Where she spent the whole day in a stick-mourning state.
So rest in peace Twiggy,
And thanks for that Mate!
Twiggy The Stick:
The Olden Days – 26 February 2017