It was once a perfect rectangle.
Exuded an air of authority as Edwardians transversed the lid.
But this inheritance was battered and bent without right angle.
Modern millennium toys cost.
Electronic, shiny, mature and Space-age winging to planned obsolescence.
This playmate too has travelled over time, yet all its clothing it has lost.
Buttons can be counted, put in rows or make a shape
Separated by size, divided by colours,
Buttons can be piled up high or rolled down.
A world of make believe, far away and escape.
Granny’s button box was perfect,
To each Pandora offering another world
to enter and explore,
Before smart Smartphones and smart trainers you could select.
The modest tin holds the humble button,
Imagination trapped within.
Where do we start, where begin?
Pastimes so long forgotten.
Linda Prince
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