WE STILL HAVE BUTTERFLIES:

We run from the wretched rantings of raucous ravens,

From the roaring lions & Satan, seeking peaceful havens,

We run from bright lights & loud noises that scarily fright,

But at least we´re left with birds, in sweet harmonious flight.

We seek succor in peace, away from tightly clenched fists,

From barbed words, that fly from minds of cruel red mists,

We run from politicized policies & bankers sad barberries,

But at least we still feel the breeze as it dances in the trees.

We hide under stones & we lie low, hiding in deepened dark,

We try avoiding harsh voices, of those who yell with loud bark,

We skulk around shadowed dim corners, hoping not to be seen,

But at least we´re still lit by the sunlight & soft pearly moonbeams.

We weep in loneliness of loss, of mourning & the passing of death,

Drying our tears in the winds, in the sighing of their sad soft breath,

We try mending our old hearts, from the rending of sorry told lies,

But at least we still have new dew & the last of summer´s butterflies.