Butterfly

by ChaoticSchemer   Dec 17, 2008


The butterfly
A cabbage white
Her honest idiocy of flight
Will never now
It is too late
Master the art of flying straight
Yet has, who knows so well as I
A just sense of how not to fly
She lurches here and here by guess
And god and hope and hopelessness
Even the aerobatic swift
Has not her flying - crooked gift
I'll always be here to give a lift
To a pretty girl
With a wonderful gift

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Latest Comments

  • 15 years ago

    by Kurt

    I really enjoyed the rhyme scheme to this poem. The words sailed off the tongue like a ship into placid water. I feel that the poem is expressing the feeling that though imperfect the (butterfly) has a unique beauty which each and every being houses within themselves. However, that's just me. Great write either way.

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