It was a little butterfly
I tried to catch but couldn’t
I set a trap for it to fall
Yet the insect wouldn’t
I hoped with all of my might
My hoping was in vain
The more I tried, the more I failed
My heart then bled with pain
It was then the butterfly
Came and sat next to me
So we talked for some hours
Oh we talked so endlessly
We discussed about the blazing sun
About clouds and skies and trees
And we left no word unturned
About plants and songs and bees
Then her time was up as I
Watched her flutter back and fly
Though I tried to keep a hold
She left me here to cry
Now then for the second time
I felt my heart bleed sore
And I couldn’t quite decide
Which is bad and which is more
Was it worse the first time
When I didn’t know her at all
Or was it worse the second time
When my heart rose just to fall?
A Little Butterfly
Frank Solanki 
‘I felt my heart bleed sore
And I couldn’t quite decide
Which is bad and which is more
Was it worse the first time
When I didn’t know her at all
Or was it worse the second time
When my heart rose just to fall?’
Damn, Frank.
Awesome.
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Thanks a lot.
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The butterfly came freely to you so could talk on the same level to you. Had she been caught, she would be compelled to communicate, but it would be with anger and hurt. The butterfly is only beautiful when free.
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I absolutely loved this. Great work!
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Thanks a lot.
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Beautiful poem, Frank. Maybe better second time as your head had experienced the beauty of
Talking tot the butterfly.
miriam
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This is moving… beautiful! Who knows… is it better to have loved and lost or not to have loved at all?
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Oh wow. So impactful and beautiful! This was very emotional to read. ❤
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Beautiful. Loved this.
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That was a lovely poem about the tragedy of being a butterfly and the briefness of the relationship
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Definitely a heart wrencher.
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That was good and heart breaking, too.
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Word : Stone ? Interesting.
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