The Butterfly Poem by Johan Fourie

Love [friendship? ] is but like the wings of a butterfly……….
…………..so fragile, so vulnerable, but actually so significant and unimaginable flexible and strong

for in the severest gusting and shearing breeze, soaking rain, and harshest and driest heat, and or cold of early frosted garden and so many predators’ on the hunt
..the delicate, amazingly beautiful body and limb of the butterfly is agile, accurate in its quest to reach the remotest, highest, or lowest flower in the garden
……clever and swift, and innocent and obvious it avoids the roving predators as it expertly times it flight it has to adept and changes trajectory
These wings do not wrinkle, tear, bruise or shear and does not wear out or grow weary

So like the wings of a butterfly once broken, then never again can love be repaired
………..no master weaver with the most delicate of needle and thread can stitch the tears or holes so neither can
…………a magician with whatever strong and powerful potion can restore the translucence so neither is it possible for
………….the craftsman with whatever ingenious and precise tool to remove the wrinkles therefore
Never more will the butterfly be able to make graceful, amazing, beautiful flight ever more