Butterfly Kisses

A simple, sweet poem.

I reach slowly out to the neck of the flower,
Feeling its dusty petals, so bright with power,

The plant's indigo shades melt into the sky,
As busy park-walkers rush on by.

And when I twist my hand just the right way,
I see the body, plain as day;

I couldn't bare to bring take on duty;
This flower's inhabitant was just a beauty!

So I restrain from plucking the plant,
As the the little critter crawls onto my hand,

It flits its wings in greeting;
For a lovely butterfly, I was just meeting.

I flick it into a tiny holding cage,
And feed it petals, before the decision is made;

I found it was time to say adue,
To a pretty little fella, who'd just made it through.

But when that day came around,
I wept at what I found;

Limp as a worm, dull as rain,
The butterfly had endured so much pain;

It froze to death, and now was gone,
To that sweet land, of butterfly songs.

I soon learned winter wasn't best,
To keep a butterfly in a small nest,

Because when they're gone,
There's no coming back,

To a little land that will always lack,
The magical feeling, of butterfly kisses.