The Butterfly Catcher Poem by Paul Holmes

Her Chrysalis cracked
And pure rays of gold
Poured through the thin
Grey shell-like mould;
A fluid rapidly pumped
Through tiny veins,
Feeding a fragile form
Struggling in pains.

Moments passed by
(Which seemed like ages)
And her wings uncurled
Like blank pages
About to have written
A diary of the day:
A history of a new life
Came into play.

She alighted atop
A fresh violet
Drying her wings
Still slightly wet;
And there she surveyed
A meadow so green,
Considering a World
With eyes so keen.

Such delicate wings
Of brown and orange detail
Outstretched toward
That pleasant vale,
Then, in an instant
Off she did fly
Toward an inviting
Azure summer sky.

She was free to float
And dance at will;
No hint of fear,
No thought to chill.
So happy to be
Alive, without care;
A peaceful paradise
Was hers to share.

Now, along came a boy
Straight out of the blue,
With the scruffiest shorts
And a black cap askew;
In one hand was a jar
With air-holes in the lid,
In the other a fine net
Big enough for the kid.

His intention was plain
For anyone to see
A creature he would catch
For his menagerie.
His eyes roved around
In search of his prize
And, straight ahead
It flew from the skies.

Settling on a dandelion
Beneath his feet
She drank sweet nectar
Until feeling replete;
Then, quick as a flash
He pounced upon that weed
And captured her
With lightning speed.

His face lit up
With a smile so wide
Happy that this butterfly
Was caught inside,
No little boy
Was ever this clever,
He was so proud
Of his endeavour.

Yet, something niggled
In the back of his mind,
Something pricked him -
Was he so blind
As to not notice
The fury and the rage
Displayed by her
Inside that glass cage?

He decided to stop
Her obvious distress
And mercifully ended
The unpleasantness.
Out into the open
Welcoming field
She gained freedom
As his control he did yield.

That little boy paused
And pondered a while,
Thinking about
His act so vile;
“Maybe one day
I’ll see her again
But, next time,
With no pain.”