The Butterfly
There was a butterfly that flew down
And rested on your chin fluttering ‘round
But you didn’t brush it away
As your gaze was straight ahead
Unflinching - for you were dead
But the world did not stop
For us called there we did the lot
Your life was ended then
But the butterfly did not comprehend
That you were now dead.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Copyright © Paul Warren | Year Posted 2018
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