The Bird And The Butterfly Poem by Jessica Foyle

With beauty and grace, with her wings tipped in gold,
She danced with the roses; she danced in the cold,
Her delicate body that glittered with dew
Virgin eyes to the morning, so young and so new.

She sang to the bluebells, she laughed with the trees,
Teasing the wind and chasing the bees,
She drank from the flowers and slept in the sun,
This sweet paradise, just perfect for one.

He flew through the leaves, as dark as the night,
His sleek, glossy body was catching the light,
And sending reflections that dappled the grass
His fearless demeanor and eyes of burnt glass.

So strong and so quick in his new paradise
As he snatched at the worms and the hardy woodlice
The black king of the creatures, the all-seeing eye
The shadow, the prowler, the hunter, the spy

His sharpened sense caught the whisper of flight
As it echoed around him and just out of sight
A flash of her gold, through the amber and green
When he saw her glide by, like a ghost of a dream.

And with all of their might and with every last breath,
They danced with each other, the dance of death
Their bodies caught up in this final sway.
The old sun held its breath as it watched the display, this last day

Until they fell like ash, swept into the breeze,
And the sun dropped down to its weary knees
And bowed its red head at the moon rising high.
And sang the bittersweet song of the bird and the butterfly.