The wings of a fragile creature,
Fluttering as a part of nature,
Flitters onto the flowers in my garden,
Then suddenly there appears more than ten.
Butterflies are ever so delicate,
It is sometimes sad to think of their fate.
They get caught by birds and human beings,
And are countless it seems.
The monarch is orange and black,
Then there is the little yellow with speckled back,
The blue ones are pretty but purple are my favorite,
And there are also white with black on it.
The butterfly is a sign of God's love,
That He showers on us from above.
To think that a creepy crawly caterpillar,
Could become a butterfly leaves me in wonder.
So little butterfly, come dance for me,
Let me be like you - alive and free,
Let me flutter everywhere,
Let me enjoy being here.
Brenda A. Ysaguirre
Copyright 2008 Brenda A. Ysaguirre
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