The Butterfly
A butterfly flutters by
outside my window pane,
and where she goes no one knows
but life will not restrain.
Into the sky drifting high
just floating with the breeze;
this lovely thing fluttering
so high above the trees.
I watch from here, filled with cheer,
such freedom do I long,
but as they say, “come what may,”
that’s not where I belong;
to be so free, this fantasy
will surely disappear;
I’m bound with skill to fulfill
my obligations here.
March 23, 2021
Copyright © John Gondolf | Year Posted 2021
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