She was a butterfly,
Without her wings, she flew,
She lacked the silky, black and orange adornment,
But, her Beauty was equal and true,
From here to there, she fluttered,
As if the ground did not exist,
Our time with her was momentary,
Short and sweet, it was,
To catch a glimpse of her,
In her fleeting flight,
Was, wonderous, an extraordinary sight,
Spirit full of freedom,
From emergence, of the cocoon,
In her world there were no ceilings,
There were no walls, to bind,
She fluttered, and mingled in crowds of her like kind,
And traveled through the day, as if she magically avoided the chains of time,
There are many, that seem perfectly the same as her,
But none could take her place,
As a butterfly she was her own,
In the open air of freedom, she was at home,
My mother was a butterfly,
The monarch, I loved so dear,
The skies have finally claimed her,
And gave her, wings of black and orange,
Now on the brightest days,
She returns to say hello,
Or so it's how I see it,
When I see a monarch on the go!
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of Heart & Mind
PoetryImagine, if you could verbally describe everything that you experience, and all that catches your eyes, as if you were artist capable of painting a meal so real you could smell it well enough to want to reach out and taste it! Well, this is my attem...
