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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)