Butterfly of Freedom
I was thinking of my youth,
which I occasionally do (SIGH).
When I remembered how I it was
to watch a butterfly.
They weren't around all that much to see
as I grew up in the big city.
Yet I had seen them fluttering about,
even trying to catch those so pretty.
Orange trimmed with black and gold,
morphed from their caterpillar caccoons.
Colors of the rainbow awing and floating by,
Even through the city's housing boom.
If one lands on you it is good luck,
or at least that's what they say.
I have had some good luck,
a long time ago, on another day.
The butterflys were with me
when I took tests at school.
They were with me before a game,
or when I felt like a fool.
The biggest ones came
when I was on one knee.
Asking that "Special Someone"
if she would marry me.
Oh, I don't know what color they were,
but they were in my tummy.
To this day I remember well,
they didn't taste very yummy.
They were there all the same,
fluttering about because all three were bold.
It was a big game, a test, and I felt the fool,
as she could say "No", and put my life on hold.
But those are the butterflys I overcame
kneeling before her that scary night.
She said, "Yes", and all was well
and ended my individual plight.
The butterflys went away,
and although we have laughed and shed tears.
Those butterflys are with me still,
even after all these years.
So when I see a butterfly now
in truth I can always see,
How swallowing my fear on that night,
the butterflys helped set me free.
Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2015
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