Doll on a shelf

This little yellow butterfly

As I write this poetry
a butterfly flies by me.

Knowing it's the last I'll ever see,
makes it much more important to me.

Knowing its the last thing to see me,
before I can leave blissfully,

This little yellow butterfly,
he means the world to me.

The last hello,
and the last good bye.
The last living thing to pass my eye

This little yellow butterfly,
he means the world to me.