The Butterfly's Funeral

I'm small and frail and very light, my wings have nice designs.

I'm patterned with some lovely shapes, and different colored lines.

My feet are small, as is my head and tiny is my face.

I weave and bob and float along as I fly from place to place.

I was born a catepillar please don't ask me why,

But since the day I left my shell I've been a butterfly.

Then one day as I flew along high above my sight,

A branch broke off from a tree above and hit me in my flight.

It knocked me to the ground below where there I fell to stay.

I lay there hurt so awefully bad til the pain just went away.

The only thing that I could feel were thoughts up in my head.

I realized the end had come, I knew that I was dead.

I couldn't see, nor could I hear but I knew that I'd been found.

It wasn't long before my friends began to gather round.

The bee was there as was the frog, the cricket and the bug.

They all began to cry and moan and each gave me a hug.

The ants came and picked me up, and wrapped me in a leaf.

Then took me to a place where all, could and share in grief.

They all showed up and finally things, began to settle down.

The gophers came and dug a whole to put me in the ground.

The birds all sang such pretty songs, the melody was good.

Even those who could not sing, did the best they could.

My friend the mantis said a prayer, brought tears to all their eyes.

Even the owl who never spoke, hooted something wise.

Then I was lowered into my grave as they shed a final tear,

I knew my home for the rest of time, was going to be right here.

I was sure surprised when I found out all the friends I had.

And it was awefully nice of them to come and be so sad.

That's my story, I've got to go, they're filling in the hole.

My last request is to God above, have mercy on my soul.

Ron Fentiman