Image from hashtagart.com

Image from hashtagart.com

Wrote this for a friend on her birthday. She said she liked it!!


The butterfly, pausing a moment to stare,

forgets to flap its wings and tumbles down;

Down, down below, smashes into the mud.

Where is the feathery lightness, it wonders,

For which it has been so much adored?

And all that multicolour,

Now stained a pathetic dark brown.

Where is its grace?


Two feet away, the dog barks crazedly,

wags its tail along.

It’s a strange colaboration, this barking and wagging,

Reserved only for the dearest ones.

Its woo-woo rises into the skies, snatches

the clap from the thunder.

The woo-woo is the thunderclap.

The raindrops don’t silence the dog.


Then, the man turns his head a fraction and sees.

His breath catches; the sunlight!

Dazzled! It’s not just the radiance now – far more than that.

It is…It is…

It is something! No, it’s nothing!

Nothing like ever before!

He can’t find the right words; just watches,

wide-eyed, working hands suspended

in the air, as it makes it way, that she-thing.

Lean and tall – well, not too tall.

Nicely-toned skin; beautiful eyes alive with intelligence,

Darting about, at the fallen butterfly, at the barking

dog, then at him.

He stiffens; averts his eyes; adjusts himself.

What was he doing before, he can’t remember.

Yonder, the church bell rings: time to go.

But he pulls at his dog’s leash but the stupid

thing won’t leave. ‘Judas!’ he mutters.



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