Spring flutters in on delicate wings,
Landing softly on pastel petals,
Sipping on the sweet nectar hidden within,
Spring blooms all around me,
Bringing such beauty into my life…
I walk though green fields,
Aglow with life,
Remembering how as children,
We tried to capture it,
Put it in a jar,
And brought it to our rooms,
So at night we could hold it so close,
And covet its beauty in our hearts…
I was a child then,
Not realizing you can’t capture life,
Hold it prisoner in a jar,
It must be free,
Or it dies.
We chased butterflies,
On spring days so beautiful,
It hurt your eyes,
We dreamed then didn’t we?
Of our future lives…
Like those lovely creatures,
We wanted to fly through life,
In a hurry to grow up,
Discover what all the fuss was about…
I wish I knew then,
What I know now…
I would have stayed a child forever,
Chasing butterflies with you by my side…
They tried to capture you,
Put you in a jar,
So they could watch you,
As the stars rose in the sky…
But you were too wise for them,
The lessons of life we learned all to well,
We always set them free after that?
Remember?
I know in my heart,
That you are free too,
Chasing those butterflies,
In the fields of our youth…
Your writes seem always to be tinged with such sadness, Retta... They rear the reader in half with their remembered lovely images shadowed by eventual disfiguring reality. Your butterfly wings are your words, Retta, perhaps changing a life with a faint flap or your wing as you help purge the caterpillar poisons from yourself. :) One spring, you will be soaring on those wings, and realize with a gasp of delight, that you are truly free.
Heartfelt write full of love and
sentiments. A little sorrowful too.
Thanks for reviews!
Reviewed by * ashura (Reader)
Reviewed on April 22, 2004
I must tell you, Retta, at the age of 51 my fave thing to do in spring and summer time is to sit in my garden and watch nature do what it does. I love the sounds of bees and hoverflies and grasshoppers and to watch butterflies riding the breezes. My cat, who has very little brain but is my master and my keeper, insists on chasing them and making great leaps into the air to try to catch them. Once or twice landing in the pond in his attempt. Of course I laugh uncontrollably as her heaves himself out of the water with blanket weed draped over his nose and seeks a warm spot to dry off and nurse his deflated ego. I adore spring and summer, fresh herbs and tomatoes from the greenhouse. Do I miss anything? Yes! Innocence! Would I want it back? Yes please! Saturdays from midday to about 7.00PM. 7 hours of innocent summer bliss would be such a gift again.
Thanks for the memory, Retta. Can we do skinny-dipping next, please. I have such fond memories of that too, before we were told it 'wasn't nice'. Sigh!!!
One thing about adulthood is we finally gain control. No more parents to bother us. Along with great power comes great responsibility. Some people get grown and don't want to be responsible. I love being grown, I can be an adult or let my little boy out of the cage. Man do we have a good time. Anyway I hate what old age does to the body. The little boy wants to run and jump but the old body says, nope we can't do too much of that anymore. Blawwwwwww! great piece, got me to thinking and inking. l&p g
Beautiful. Oh that everyone had learned that lesson and would not try to put beauty or genius in a jar! Great art to go with this... like everybody else, I was there! Dawn
Reindeer , This is excellent and superb ... Went to my childhood where we all kids went behind the lovely butterflies running and running and sometimes fall hiting some stones and cry looking at mothers ... They realise the reality of our cry and we have to realise we didnt cry for the falling down but we cry of missing the butterflies ... Lovely memories of childhood ...
good work here...brought back many memories. For a brief while, I kept an insect collection but like you state in the poem, I quickly discovered that it was just not right.
Now, I still collect, but I collect memories and put them into words...nothing dies and the memories are always fresh.
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on April 21, 2004
Lovely poem. The missing, it never quite goes away, does it.
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ENJOYED MUCH
WILLIAM
You make spring sound wonderful.....
:)Sandy
sentiments. A little sorrowful too.
Thanks for reviews!
Thanks for the memory, Retta. Can we do skinny-dipping next, please. I have such fond memories of that too, before we were told it 'wasn't nice'. Sigh!!!
michael
So beautifully written, Reindeer!
Love, Sheila
i used to LOVE chasing butterflies...o, you brought back pleasant memories of being a little girl...thank you for the brain jog :)
charming, beautiful write--thank you for sharing
((((HUGS)))) and love, karla. :)
love this Reindeer...floria
M.Rose
~Chrissie
Thanks for charing ... Keep it up ...
Regards
Sanilnath G
sentiments and so true. I remember chasing
those butterflies.
Now, I still collect, but I collect memories and put them into words...nothing dies and the memories are always fresh.