Trisha Lord

The Saturday Butterfly
Following a Saturday butterfly,
snaking through the garden towards the sea,
I chanced upon a mountain of flowers, unbeknown to me.
What are these doing growing here, so wonderfully free?
Ah me! I wish that I could be a Saturday butterfly:
What a fine life this would be! On my way across the garden
and down towards the sea.

The snake he does not see either butterfly or the sea,
But he smells those flowers surely,
as sure as he smells me.  A sniffing snake, a sniffy snake,
sneaking down the tree.  I wonder what he’ll make of
the butterfly and me?  Ah well!  What does it matter?
As long as I am free!  I’ve faced that sneaky snake before!
He does not frighten me.

But the shaking Saturday butterfly,
she’s not as brave as me, and she seems to have missed the flowers
and is heading for the tree!  I’ll sit down here and watch it all:
it is not down to me to save the Saturday butterfly
from the snake inside of me.  I’ll sit, and breathe, and wait
and see what happens to the sea, as it laps the shore by the garden
of the snake and his shady tree.

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