PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

While you played beneath the rose bushes,

Not knowing that it's thorns would cut you,

I listened for the heartbeat of nature,

Laying amongst the field grasses,

Waiting for your wings to grow.

Soon you'll be a beautiful butterfly,

Whose wings will bask the world in light,

Whose blood will feed a thousand monarchs,

You'll make your home beneath the vines,

And the waves will crush me.

Butterfly, your wings are mangled,

Ripped and torn to little shreds,

How you wish your mother could guide you,

You didn't know the thorns would harm you,

Beneath that bed of roses.