While resting by the blooming blossoms,
I happened to see a butterfly flutter by.
With fire- red wings added with a black tinge,
Above the placid plants it flew high.
The winged colours leapt from blossom to blossom
With each splendid leap better than the last.
An audience stopped to watch and listen
To the admiring silence the tiny angel’s wings cast.
As an added touch to an already perfect painting,
The butterfly danced among the dazzling flowers.
With its glory, the insect conquered a multitude -
Me, children, the violet sky and the flowers – its dear lovers.
Smiles were spread on infant faces
As the colours showcased their wizardry.
But who knew that grief would replace joy
And that the insect would meet its tragedy?
The tiny thing, when celebrating dance,
Fell directly into a spider’s food tray.
Not considering the helpless moans and cries,
The spider hurried towards its prey.
Shocking silence replaced the admiring silence.
Looks of horror replaced the looks of wonder.
But they knew it was helpless now,
For only God can stop Death – the hunter.
The crowd dispersed with heads bent
And the flowers were left desolate and bare.
Glory is surely short-lived and not immortal
And a fall is brought to many a great, with exceptions rare.
let spiders eat me but not the butterfly! ! ! ....spiders are ruthless... this poem touched my heart.......well written and expressed....you are a very good writer you have to take poetry as you career...
Beautiful imagery.....and what a turn of scene! Shows life to be ephemeral!
this is a wonderful poem with beautiful images, deep and wise thoughts..well said
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very nice effort. Why is it that only poets ever notice butterflies? Everyone else just sees the catterpillars