A Wild Butterfly

I once saw a wild butterfly
riding with the wind
she went on his shoulders
with all her luggage wings.

they flew through narrow slits
of the forest’s dense soul
smudging the greens and stirring
dark pools in the swamp holes.

they copy pasted the colours
of the tinted flower heads
and eye-picked the streaks
of the lifted leaf-brows slim.
they even giggled like children
and got wet in the rain
flew through the mist
without any lights to warn ahead.

their cries echoed
and the trees oohed and aahed
even the vines stood still
losing their twisted selves.

they urged the frogs to jump
that hesitated near ponds
and calmed the hiccups
of the dew standing on plant tops.

one day the butterfly stopped
and died on the forest cradle
the wind tried a mouth-to-mouth
and the leaves just held her

she never messed up her hair
even when she gave out her last breath
and the wind has never stopped carrying
the butterflies since then.

©Malintha Perera 2015


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