On a path of buttons she did sew upon her patchwork steps,
like silk they were upon this place each one delicately
thread. In a tale of one woven following the footpath
of seamless memories, but one can became untied from
the trail if not watching there untied thoughts instead.

Before silken steps knew any different, a broken button
did fray her stride. Looking around, she spoke in velvet
wording "Hello is there but a voice to guide my way,
But not a woven word did cross stitch upon the air.
All was not as she knew before, a place not quite fastened right.

Trees were torn, branches were hanging by loose thread, the
embroidered leaves tattered and worn like they had been
handled in wrong manners way to much. The road once sewn
in tasteful stitch, now scratched and broken like it had been discarded
without a pattern to weave a safe path, this wasn't as such.

Luckily for this little lady her silken steps were still fresh behind,
patterned in a way to follow her way back.  Noises she heard of
fabric torn, not seeing it she hurried her motions to where the
buttons were polished woven in form, The trees were trimmed
the leaves elaborately stitched, and she sighed with relief.

She had learnt a lesson that was cross stitched into her thoughts.
That when one is walking always know where those silken steps are woven to the right path. For if a path becomes tattered and a place unknown, one was not taking steps to safety get home. Always weave a
thought from here to there, follow you buttons carefully to home instead.