The Butterfly and the hand

While summer day leaden lids ushered in sleep

and into tranquil mind gentle dreams did seep,

hands, limp and lifeless facing the balmy sun ,

as exquisite mind stilled musing had just begun

I became at once aware of an imagined touch,

for it was almost too slight be known as such.

Then without intent, eyes dropped onto my palm.

The world was a solemn stillness, all was calm,

and there rested a Butterfly, there in my hand.

I was awestruck, blessed by a vision so grand.

As I watched it’s wings twitch and flap in code,

entranced by the vivid flash colour it showed,

I wondered what news delicate herald brought,

and did it not fear to be by frightful fist caught.

I seemed to understand, but what I couldn’t say,

then gone that beautiful moment as it flew away.

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