Dear black butterfly
In the middle of the night...
who's soul will you take with you this time?
I dream of my father's grave...
And mine, freshly dug next to his,
wind holding the nostalgic smell of thyme.
You slip away from my hands...
leaving me a message,
that I prayed I shouldn't recieve
I don't know why you're here...
but, if killing me is your intention,
I swear on my life, I won't decieve.
You snatched my happiness...
you stole my dreams,
why won't you take away my sorrow.
Were you sent by hell...
to devour what's left of us,
or take us captive on the morrow?
I feel your wings flapping...
my ears hear the sound,
sensing my every breath
if you're trying to challenge...
I'm ready to complete,
come find me, ' O, Angel of Death '

( poem based on the big black butterfly I saw flying across the room a few days before my father's death, I saw it again this morning and I remembered that I had already written a poem on a black butterfly two years ago, but anyways...this is the new version.)




- Robbielee





© Shirley Robert