The END of My Poetic Exploits

The END of My Poetic Exploits

The world turned around its orbit,
the Butterfly got a cage;
From now, his life will forever,
cease to be his stage.

He used to talk to mockingbirds,
he used to sing his line;
Mountains swayed to his rhythms,
fountains hummed his rhyme.

Down the lane of mellow marshmallows,
meandering between the pines;
Fluttering little red romantic wings,
could be heard like a chime.

He loved the sound of soft ripple,
from the sweet magic stream;
Little did he know his fairy was,
building a cage for him.

He wouldn’t try, he wouldn’t cry,
the battle he wouldn’t wedge;
from now on the little red Butterfly,
would die in his fairy’s cage!