The Butterfly
© Elizabeth
The last, the very last
So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.
Perhaps if the sun's tears would
sing against a white stone…
Such, such a yellow
It carried lightly way up high
It went away I'm sure because it wished to
kiss the world goodbye
For seven weeks I've lived in here
Penned up inside this ghetto
but I have found my people here,
The dandelions call to me
And the white chestnuts candle in the court
Only I never saw another butterfly
Butterflies don't live in here
In the ghetto!!
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