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.