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.

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