Butterfly
(Someone noticed a butterfly on the font during singing practice)
There’s light through the window,
And each and every butterfly
Is duly unfettered,
Yet oh, so a prisoner
And flat against
The tempting, gaudy glass,
So desperately spreading magnificent wings
That push towards
The light of the sun.
Yet there’s a dissenter, unsung, unseen,
In a so-less-obvious corner (dark),
Who crouches alone
All folded and sombre
On the cold, heavy font
So near to the door.
And then, a kindly, gentle hand
It lifts that drab
And sombre sliver
Outside to flutter
In the
Quickening warmth and the glorious glow
Of
The Freedom...
Of the Day.