Of Unending Obituaries and parasitic butterflies
Egg first, larva next, pupa later, Adult at last.
Here and there it sways and sings
Spreading its sparkling little wings.
Floating from flower to flower
Nectar the need of the hour.
The flower gave sans inhibition
For the butterfly was an overwhelming addiction.
An ephemeral bliss of the sweetest type
As short as the falling snow.
Seasons change, flowers wither
Bright blue and purple once
Battered brown at best now.
The butterfly visits relentlessly
Maybe for sentimental candyfloss
Or perhaps to tell a tale of flaws
Either way too late it was.
The obituary had been scripted
Scripted along with the egg
In scribbling that made no sense.
The butterfly sings in tunes mellow
As the flower awaits the deserved gallows
Barren lands laugh at prospective pollination
The time was beyond medication
Goodbye butterfly, my dearest.