I once gave
you a bouquet, of pretty coloured butterflies,
Each
trembling upon green stalk, reaching for blue skies,
Each little
wing, a tiny petal, softly filigreed, silken & fine,
A myriad of
colours, of cyan, saffron & of deep ruby wine,
Each one a
precious jewel, a tiny, shiny & quivering gem,
All perched in
floral gowns, upon nature´s seats of stems.
You spurned
my precious jewels, of diamond, pearl & bead,
Didn’t want
cut flowers, nor potted plants grown from seed,
You refused
to accept the cruelty, of coats made out of furs,
You prefer
the scent of rain, to that of musk, rose & myrrh,
You say hats
with pretty feathers, should be flying in the sky,
And not
pinned to your head, which will only make you cry.
But a bouquet
of pretty butterflies, perched upon long stems,
“With freedom
in their sight”, you say, “beats any ermined hems”,
A pretty rainbow
of excited flitterings, eager to please the eye,
As each one,
from its stem takes flight, up towards blue skies,
Filling your
heart & soul with song & a joy beyond compare,
“A gift of freedom”,
you said, “one for the whole word to share”.
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