(14 October 1888 – 9 January 1923 / Wellington)

Butterfly Laughter

In the middle of our porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each morning we tried who should reach the
butterfly first.
Then the Grandmother said: "Do not eat the poor
butterfly."
That made us laugh.
Always she said it and always it started us laughing.
It seemed such a sweet little joke.
I was certain that one fine morning
The butterfly would fly out of our plates,
Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world,
And perch on the Grandmother's lap.

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Comments (18)

A wonderful story in the poem. I did enjoy.
I appreciate the poetic flair. Thank you.
The poetic approach on a family joke is so appreciable. Nice
The boys dreamhousr
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