By: AzurreDawn~

When I was a child in summer

for hours in play I would chase,

the beauty and flight of the butterfly

it’s joy, silent laughter and grace.


I would chase and catch them in mid air

wishing on my finger they would land,

my heart would cry each and every time

one of them died in my hand.


Oh, often I would not catch one

for beauty is not outwardly found,

but there were times in the pursuit

where my heart and feet left the ground.


I would honestly suppose as many young do

that placing them in jars made a home,

for they never remained in one place

and their journey was always alone.


Grasses that grew made a soft bed

flowers relieved their hunger,

holes in the lid gave plenty of air

but they never seemed to grow stronger.


With all this love and comfort

they still attempted to flee,

I only wanted their beauty

they only sought to be free.


I did not realize so young

a glass prison I did make,

I placed their lifeless bodies to rest

and cried for my own sake.


Their beauty is now but a memory

only my heart can see,

their flight is a birth to a new world

discovered and reflected in me.

                       © 1985  ~AzurreDawn        

  (My Favorite)