Where does the butterfly go
When all the flowers are gone?
From whence does he pull a draught
Of nectar to soothe his body and mind?
His wings falter at the cutting breeze
For ‘tis already the cusp of winter.
He no longer has the healing tonic
Of her blossom as night falls down
And so he succumbs to his fate
Laying down in the freezing dew
Dreaming of the days of spring-
Of the orchid bud he once knew.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 3:36 AM UTC
Where does the butterfly go
When all the flowers are gone?
From whence does he pull a draught
Of nectar to soothe his body and mind?
His wings falter at the cutting breeze
For ‘tis already the cusp of winter.
He no longer has the healing tonic
Of her blossom as night falls down
And so he succumbs to his fate
Laying down in the freezing dew
Dreaming of the days of spring-
Of the orchid bud he once knew.
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