A single strand of silk
Hanging from a tree branch,
Little nibble marks on the leaves.
A tiny green worm living in a tree
Inching his way up the trunk,
For spring is almost done.
Up at the top he makes a work of art,
A caccoon for him to slumber in.
Slowly he climbs in and stitches it shut behind him,
As the weeks pass, he turns into a beautiful butterfly.
The fragile creature climbes out of his shell,
Delicatley fanning his wings in the summer sun.
Clairabella Shoens
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem