The Butterfly

I saw a butterfly,
In the corner of my eye.
By a country road of romance,
At the end of a wooden fence.

Torn and broken wings,
Crush in the wires.
So hapless there all alone,
No hope to survive on its own.

I went to aid,
Through the glade.
But all at once,
A truck passed by leaving a trance.

Then the image blurred,
And all that was left of the butterfly,
Was a memory,
And an image of reality.

by JeanFrancois Denis

Comments (2)

Nice one, I was there watching from behind your shoulder.
You could change the second 'image' to whisp. H