Memories Of Butterflies

I sat alone in thinking

One summer's afternoon,

Quiet in my wishing

that school was ending soon.

I stood up to go strolling,

Trudging through the gravel,

And as my legs were stretching out,

So my thoughts unravel.

I came to a sodden green

Left wild, frayed and grown,

Where grass and wilted dandelions

were swaying free on their own.

I stepped inside the scrubby patch

Untouched by many since;

Stepping further in the bush and brush,

Being touched by many scents.

I stopped and stared in silence

Because to my surprise,

In the thick of twisting roots and shoots,

I saw some butterflies.

They flitted their delicate wings,

As they clung to swinging reeds

Or pattered around for tiny flowers

that lay strewn among the weeds.

The breeze that dared disturbed them

Rushed through the mangled plants,

But unperturbed they collect

And went on their natural trance.

They didn't see me coming,

Or at least that's what I thought,

And so strange was my feeling

Of somehow getting caught

By Winged beasts that held no strength,

Just delicacy and white.

Oh, so strange was my fear

Of that which held no might.

Thus, as I drew so near

And I crouched down to see,

Something that I forgot I scared

As much as it scared me.

An outstretched arm so carefully

Tried to catch the tiny petals,

And trying not to be dissuaded

By annoying stinging nettles.

Before I knew what happened

I had stroked a little wing

That flinched, but saw no threat in me,

It didn't see a thing.

Suddenly, it jumped a flutter

Onto my unwitting hand

And took from me that which was mine

With it's single silent command.

Upon my finger, I brought it up

And of any haste, I showed no sign,

And an air of relief went past me,

As it's wings fell to recline.

I watched intently as it sat

And prodded at my skin,

Then fluttered of and disappeared

To be one again with it's kin.

I left it in the green that day

When it graced my hand so kind,

But carried it for years, I did,

So safely in my mind.

It allowed my gaze so briefly

And my thoughts, more than I know,

But I do know with more certainty

How much I miss it so.

It has been ages since

My little friend left before my eyes,

But now I know why yearning love

Is compared to butterflies.