Saturday, February 18, 2017

The Life of a Butterfly
Patricia Shannon

Sitting in my garden I watch it pass by,
small and colourful, the gracious butterfly.
Where does it come from, where does it go?
I really wish it could let me know.

I'd like to be a butterfly,
I'd like to fly high in the sky,
fluttering around in gardens and hills,
soaking up the sun on window sills.

To view the world from above,
the world where life can be rough.
Free from chores and responsibilities,
free from hatred and atrocities.

To fly against the wind and rain.
When people try to catch me, luckily in vain.
My rapid movements fool them all.
Miraculously I hardly ever fall.

It is a mystery to me
why it is so gorgeous and free.
One of the reasons why
I adore the attractive butterfly!

Perhaps one day I could try
to be like them and fly
around the world, to be free,
that will be a dream for me.

Until then I have to rely
upon a butterfly passing by.
So I work in my garden every day
and try my best to make them stay.

The End.

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