Butterflies

The little girl danced capriciously into the lawn 
And twirled, her hair glistening in the morning sun, 
Her radiant smile in harmony with her laughing eyes 
She stopped. Motionless, with a look of intense concentration. 
She had spotted a butterfly. 
Enraptured by its graceful beauty 
Her light feet mirrored its erratic flight. 
Its blue-tipped wings evasively, out of reach 
A butterfly coloured in brilliant red flitted past 
And with a gasp of wonder she started the chase 
But soon found her dithering between the two. 

Very soon, several butterflies flitted around her 
Following their own pursuits; 
A whiff of fragrance, a soft petal… 
Utterly oblivious of the confusion 
The delicate fluttering of their wings 
Whipped up in her. 
She ran after one, then another, 
Her eager hands closing a second too late. 
Finally, hot and exhausted, she sat 
On the grass dejectedly. 
She closed her eyes. 
A playful breeze ruffled her hair 
Cooling her hot cheeks, tickled by a strand of hair. 
The incessant tickling drew her attention 
And she discerned tiny feather-like pricks. 
She opened her eyes. 
In the soft evening glow she saw 
To her intense delight 
A butterfly with liquid wings 
Perched with calm audacity on her cheek. 


Christina De Silva 
02 July 2009