Born one dewy day of golden morn,
Of tiny larvaed brain & soft wet wing,
Quivering damp upon petalled dawn,
Gentle Butter-yellow
& without a sting.
Soft as dark night´s flickering candle flame,
A mere darting of golden dusk´s sunbeam,
Flutter by butterfly, light in colour & name,
Flittering & fluttering skimming forest stream.
A long lost song echoing on summer breeze,
Exit written on
pages of moonbeam´s milk,
As unheard as the soft thistle´s elfin sneeze,
Of fleeting wishes, departing on wing of silk.
Kissing petals of lilacs & of the blood red rose,
You are but a satin whisper for just a single day,
On night´s encroaching, you sit in death´s repose,
Within petalled-folded wing, you bid farewell & pray.
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