There was once a little butterfly
Who dreamed of flying up to sky
When she flutters her wings
Oh what wonderful colours they bring
Roses, dandelions and sunflowers alike
Marveled at the dazzling sight
Little she is, that tiny butterfly,
But her colours make every flower sigh.
But all beauty in this world is just lent by time,
All is set to wither; to die.
Every flutter of her wings is timed, is bound
To that haunting tic tocking sound
But she is not perturbed, she cannot be stopped
To chase her dreams, to smile and laugh.
With every breath, she tried and tried.
She chased the sky and flew up high.
But before she could touch even a single cloud,
A rainstorm came.
And darkness covered the earth like a shroud.
Her wings were torn and soaked.
Her lifeless body fell on an oak.
The other butterflies grieved and cried
"What a waste her life had been!" most of them said.
"Chasing the sky is a worthless feat,
She was bound to fail!
She died a worthless death."
But one butterfly raised her voice,
Because she knew it was not a worthless choice.
"It was not a worthless death,
She lived her dreams. She did all her best.
I know she died with no regrets.
Isn't the rainstorm part of raging sky?
She was touched by it before she died.
In that moment, I knew she fulfilled her dreams.
The wind is roaring, hear it! It screams:
Soar up high, reach for the sky,
For victory is impossible for those
Who do not try."
Behold this little butterfly,
Her memories will live; they will not die.
YOU ARE READING
Blue Fairytales
PoesíaLife is a fairytale, with pages in various hues. Some are in bright, happy colors; some are just in blue. But each one is worth reading, even those in gloomy, crumpled pages. Because those stories crumpled by hardships contain life's greatest lesson...
