The grass is parched and oh so dry,

Our butterfly the same,

So hot and thirsty, he could cry,

Petunias look aflame.

His coat is tattered, battle scarred,

From dragonfly attacks,

The lovely patterns cruelly marred,

He fears that love he lacks.

He thinks of cooler days gone by

When rhodos welcomed him,

And how his lovely coat, now dry,

Is tattered and so dim.

 

But every life through time must pass

However short or long,

He’s dreaming of that greener grass,

And how he once was  strong.