The Butterfly

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about the growth we partake in through the hardships of life.

Submitted: May 08, 2017

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Submitted: May 08, 2017



A small child wanders the abundant garden.

Many a things live in the patch,

Elegant flowers bloom and then harden,

As insects fly to bolster their batch.


As the girl walks the oasis,

A vibrant winged creature catches her eye.

She squeals and to the beautiful apparition races,

“A butterfly!” rings her cry


Stuck admiring its placid wings,

She doesn’t notice the other thing.

It sits there waiting,

Looking by,

Wishing it too was a butterfly.


The girl, as if hearing thoughts,

Looks up at that bug of sorts.

She screams in horror,

Running off,

To her mummy in the croft.


The girl comes back with mum in tow,

Wary of where she will step and go.

“Mum, Mum look at that horrid thing!”

She said, pointing to its weird colouring.


The women smiles and stifles a laugh,

Reaching down to her small calf.

“You see that butterfly over there?”

She points and the curious child directs her stare.

“It used to look like this my child,

brown, small and poor exiled.”

“That cannot be!” the child exclaimed,

Looking at the thing dismayed.


“Well not everything starts off perfect,

Its one of the things that make you earn it.

You must find a way to create yourself,

To be the best of what you can tell.

It will be hard my dear sweet child,

But promise me you will not be riled.

by the dark and terrible things,

That may make you want to shed your wings.

So remember no matter how something may look,

They are only one chapter in their book.”


The child’s features seemed to mature,

With the deep meaningful passage that seemed in store.

© Copyright 2018 tara andrew. All rights reserved.

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