The Butterfly
The flutter of the butterfly
whispers in the breeze.
It flies so energetically
from flower to flower
It's beauty is perfection.
It is a gift of love.
Perchance its wafting action
is more than a daub on canvas,
so dark and dank and cold.
It's folly to paint its flight.
it might be happenstance, but
I left my paints at home.
3/6/2019 The Butterfly Emile Pinet
Copyright © Val Jennings | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment