Mrs. Buttersworth Poem by Isaak DeMaio

Mrs. Buttersworth tried for the third time today,
to get out of her chair, and stand on her own two feet.
She suffered from ill-health, 'cause that's the way things are,
and that's how things changed, we all are born to die,
and that's the thing that's always going to be the same.
You'll die, you'll fear, you'll change, and you'll never be the same,
Mrs. Butterworth did you know that you were dying?

I talk to her every now and again, she's always asking, 'Where have you been? '
But it's the fear that hides, it's the fear she doesn't see, it's the fear that lives deep inside of me.
She spends her days sitting, forgetting what she reads,
watching the television pictures, instantly blinded by what she's seen.
I've watched her for eight months like she watches TV, remembering every little scene,
a short film reminding me of the times we spent, and wondering about the time that could have been.
But this is the way things are, and it's the things that have changed,
it's the thing that makes things never be the same.

When she tries to talk to me every once in a little while.
she smiles, she laughs, she's fine, she's tough,
she taught me that my life has never been this much.
I'll smile, I'll laugh, I'll live, until the day Mrs. Buttersworth has finally had enough, and I'll wonder where she could be now.
She'll die, I'll fear, i'll change, and I'll never be the same.
Did she make it up to Heaven, and watching down on me? Or is she right around the corner, still checking up on me? Is she near me, in me, for me, with me? I guess I'll never know
I know that this day had to come, but I never really told her she meant more than the world to me.