One day a butterfly landed on me,
And I thought, “How could this be?”
She moved on my arm and kinda tickled,
And around my hand she circled.
Then she stopped and displayed her wings,
Right on my hand near one of my rings.
As I went about my typical day
That silly butterfly would not go away.
In the store and in my car,
And even in my favorite bar.
All the time her wings would open,
Showing her pattern again and again.
When I got in bed that night,
I shook my hand, but she held on tight.
Then I fell asleep in my bed
Instead of sheep, I counted butterflies instead
When I awoke, I was in shock,
On my hand, she was still locked.
When I washed she traveled so boldly,
She moved around my entire body.
From my arm to my head,
I have no idea how she fed.
I became her real estate,
Whether I was at work or on a date.
Over time I seemed to forget,
And she became my favorite pet.
I would pet her like a cat,
And learned to feed her: imagine that.
Some may think this story will have a shocking end.
Certainly not: I have just found a wonderful friend.
By Greg Stanley