A girl came outside,
And kneeled right beside,
A tiny mound of soil.
She lifted a bowl,
Then let the drops roll,
And down it came as soft as oil.
Each day she would leave,
And the seed would receive,
A stream of water—never late.
She waited for years,
But nothing appeared,
And yet she continued to wait.
Years later she married,
Then he, too, carried,
The burden of the seed.
Frustrated he was,
But she wasn’t because,
She knew the plant would succeed.
He told her that forever,
It would not grow, not ever,
But she just said to not lose hope.
He could not believe,
That it did not peeve,
Or even cause her to mope.
Sadly after several years,
She became filled with tears,
Then she was taken from that life.
But the man didn’t stop,
And still watered that crop,
So that it would grow for his wife.
Still yet it did not,
And left him distraught,
Until he ripped it right out of the ground.
He sat there in awe,
Confused that he saw,
It was just a button that he had found.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poem. The title is appropriate.