Butterfly

 I was reading a novel an early morning autumn day

Its flowers falling randomly, brushing those away that fell to my face

The rays of sunlight peeped through the clouds and warmth filled my space

Then dancing  under a weeping willow

A single butterfly, new like it had just been released from its cocoon

Flew as if it had been dancing to a joy and playful melodic tune

Its radiance was emacculant

Violet, red and a tint of baby blue

Never had I been drawn to a creature and this became an attraction for my inquisition; enchanted 

I watched as it danced, and wonder where it had been, why it was lonely and traveled without a friend

The butterfly flew with determination for it seemed it knew how to fly but was still in the process of trying to figure out why

So, I laid my novel down and raised my seat to see and I thought I would provide it assistance and take it home with me

I placed it a weaved box and it entered willingly

I took it home and placed it in a big, jar with a top poked with holes in cased it in glass.

watched it fly so freely or atleast At first it seemed.

Daily I would release the butterfly and it would dance in search for its soul and then I would lock it up because it was mine to cherish, thinking I was giving it time to grow

Days passed and watching I could see, that the butterfly was weeping and it colors began to bleed

It never shed a tear, but its dance became a melancholy stance and its energy and determination became more like a task.

The butterfly was my essence it lead to a place of enjoyment, and for that I was appeased

In return its death would be the cost for the feeling it provided me

I opened up the window, it needed space to breathe, I had sheltered that butterfly long enough, I understood and for awhile didn’t want to believe

It danced in excitement as it flew into auburn sunset and I sat on my bed and sighed, picked up the book I never finished even began to write.

Preoccupied with my effect the butterfly had on me

Frustrated with loss and never knowing of its end I knew I would never see that one of a million butterfly ever again

And again I returned to the place under the willow where I ironically I would weep as my heart healed as I wrote new chapter in my book because that is what was  planned in life for me

Days passed and I learned the an idea of me, read and wrote more novels and loved other creatures for there individuality. It was years and I always returned to that tree

Spending hours learning myself and rehashing lifes memories

And one day a flower fell from the tree and a smell of lillies arose and I looked up to see

A butterfly danced as it flew to a joyful and melodic tune

Bright radiance for its violet, red and baby blue had now magnified and this the butterfly knew

It had reached it destiny and found where in life its intent was meant to be

The butterfly had found that its life was to begin and end with me. I knew and the butterfly knew it would always return to me.