“A Wounded Butterfly”
by Andrew Benson
I witness autumn aim to please
As I walk among the fallen leaves
Autumn’s beauty is growing pale and brown,
Its leaves steadily coming down.
A colorful leaf I spot
But no – a leaf it is not
Rather a former sparkle of the shallow sky,
It is a wounded butterfly.
Its wings, so unbearably light,
Fail to flutter and take flight
I cannot hold back my swelling tears,
Nor can I accept my worst fears.
While I hope that it will fly away
Resolved to make its unique way
I guide it into the grass
And reluctantly, I have to pass.
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