'A Brown Butterfly

Brown wings with dark spots and dark freckles a short life it only enjoy

Four days to it will be a long span such is the life of a brown butterfly

But is our life to it that much different since the Reaper awaits you and I

We come to life inside a woman we are born and we age and we die.

A butterfly grows from an ugly caterpillar into such a beautiful thing

And it flies around trees in the sunlight where wildborn birds whistle and sing

In a few days 'twill return to Nature and amongst Nature's bosom it's tiny remains will decay

All things of life born with a time span whether it be for a century or a day.

Such beauty to captivate an artist or to inspire a poet for to rhyme

A brown butterfly in the garden on a sunlit day in Summer time

It dies in it's full bloom of beauty it's wings don't grow withered and gray

It mates and lay eggs in it's short life and it lives and dies by Nature's way.

A brown butterfly in the garden the birds pipe on the sunlit trees

On a beautiful day in the Summer with a cool freshness in the mild breeze

Such moments give us years of pleasure and in years from now I will retain

The memory of this great beauty that until death with me will remain.

Francis Duggan'