Butterfly

I’ll tell you the plea,
of a beautiful butterfly…
The loveliest of all…
in the garden of Shanghai…
It was soft… softer than dew…
It was colorful… brighter than multi-hue…
Fluttering… fluttering…
From one bud to bud…
From one blossom to blossom…
Magnetizing the interest of all…
Alluring the magic of enthrall…
It was the gardener’s pride!

But one day,
to everyone’s dismay…
A wanderer,
walked into the garden…
A mobster, a casanova…
and the beauty was the eye-charm…
He chased, and caught the butterfly…
not by force, but by alluring it close…
Caught… and held…
The little one was innocent,
about the whole charm…
the whole chase game…
It enjoyed the play,
and a new dance…
He played… oh!
How well he played…
Played with it’s wings,
The colorful wings…
brighter than multi-hue…

But, then the wanderer,
was no soft…
He had no heart,
mobster was what…
Just got bored, for something new…
Burnt the wings,
watched with smirk…
Burnt the beautiful wings…
pulling slowly in flames…
Burnt the multi-hue…
till the butterfly fluttered in anguish!

I called to the gardener!
He hushed away the mobster,
and lifted the butterfly…
Crying softly,
Lulled it to sleep…
Telling softly,
Never to trust again…
But the wings are lost,
Never the same again…