Butterfly's Child

By Jayeesha Merchant

I flit about,

The cool blue,

Frolic lightly,

Wings change colour,

Some days I glow orange,

Speckled with black,

On other days, brown grey.

Mother says I am pretty,

One day I may be caught,

The thing;

Protruding head,

Long claws,

Sister saw it.

Attached to strange body,

Oblong beaked face,

Slits for air,

Shiny black beads to see.

I live never knowing,

Fluttering simply

Against the cool blue,

Until time,

I am free to be taken.

By Jayeesha Merchant