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Sep 2016
There was a blue butterfly,
At my sill I saw it land,
And felt an emotion then,
That I try to understand.

The next day I returned,
And my blue friend did appear,
Not with awe inspiring flight,
But with crippling despair.

A ripped wing made flight hard,
Still it tried to fly in vain,
I watched with sorrow here,
On this side of the window pane.

I thought of all the butterflies,
And wondered why they fly,
The ground is so much safer,
Yet I always see them try.

Some torn from the air by wind,
Others stunted during growth,
But like them we all must live,
Flying high as if by oath.
Sarah Strack
Written by
Sarah Strack  22/F
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