the day is over...
and still so heavy on the mind.
in flew glowing, smiling mother butterfly...
in yellow
to join the frowning cactus crowd.
finding flowers -- even there -- to flutter round.
i thought, "isn't mother grand?"
the way she flies and flies
into the sting of the cold and the
prick of the barbed wire?
isn't mother grand to gladly fly
and swiftly fly into the sting of the cold
and the prick of the barbed wire?
the day is over...
and still goes passing through the mind.
in came glowing, smiling mother, sure and kind.
to rouse us...
to give ourselves out and to cry...
birth to warm intentions... worthless otherwise
oh the lives that brush against us pass us by and by...
the friends who may or may not come if we
should first invite...
oh to open doors to always gladly fly and fly...
... into the sting of the cold and the prick of the barbed wire
why?
http://www.boomspeed.com/shatzy/butterfly2.JPG
