| Butterfly Wings In the meadow, I chanced to spy, A multi-colored butterfly. It fluttered freely in the breeze, Over thistles and around the trees. Admiring its graceful, playful flight, Gave my heart such delight. I followed closely just to know, Which way it went, was yet to go. Hoping that our paths might lead To cross, within my heart did plead For a chance to come up close and see This form which had enlightened me. I stopped. It flew around me there, And soon had landed in my hair. I raised my hand, and to my surprise, It winged its way before my eyes! �Oh pretty butterfly today, You come to me this special way. Light upon my hand, and see The joy you shall impart to thee.� I gazed upon its wings to find All gentleness and grand design. �Elusive butterfly, so near, Stay awhile, yes calm your fears.� Now curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to touch its wings to see If the softness, which appeared as such, Could be felt, by human touch. I moved more quickly, than I should. I scraped its wing, so there I stood. Now wounded, it fell upon the grass. I prayed that moment soon would pass. So I mourned the injured butterfly. Its trust diminished, would it try? But soon recovered, still with pain, Fluttered off, as though in vain. My heart now sad, this creature who Took the chance for something too. The wounded wing and heart to stay, Still haunts me to this very day. Douglas Fletcher 5/10/2001 |
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