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.

by Katherine Mansfield

Other poems of MANSFIELD (64)

Comments (12)

Delightful! Absolutely delightful, Katherine of Many Faces!
i like this poem
Nice and simple imagery. I especially appreciate the overall fairy-tale feel of the poem. Sweet poem.
what a lovely memory of your grandmother and family
Loved this poem about the butterfly. I love butterflies. Check out my poem BUTTERFLY OF DEATH.
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