Treasure Island

Gayle Sweeney

(May 1955 / Massachusetts USA)

A Butterfly


A big lemony butterfly floated up with a sunny breeze
And drifted amoung the cool green leaves of the old, black cherry trees.
It was seen clearly dancing in the air and then not found at all,
Cloaked in cloisonne' as if it was going to an evening ball.
Now the blue heavens bring solace,
Brightening up the empty space
Where the sunshiny butterfly suddenly left
Without a trace.

Submitted: Thursday, October 07, 2010
Edited: Saturday, February 04, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

improve

Comments about this poem (A Butterfly by Gayle Sweeney )

Enter the verification code :

  • * Sunprincess * (4/28/2014 8:39:00 PM)

    ........oh this is so beautiful...i love seeing the creamy yellow butterflies enjoying a sunny day....loved reading this one.. (Report) Reply

  • Romeo Della Valle (5/10/2011 5:45:00 PM)

    A very well crafted and poignant write, Gayle, I am very impressive with your style! Keep it up! Your words give you away! 10+++Love and Peace for always! (Report) Reply

  • Lynn Glover (2/1/2011 1:00:00 PM)

    Very beautifully written Gayle and I could see this butterfly flying across the sky as I read your poem. Very much alive it seemed to me and a very enjoyable trip. Lynn.l (Report) Reply

Read all 4 comments »

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Is The CPI(M) Itself Good And Gentle?, Bijay Kant Dubey
  2. A daily fun!, PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
  3. Ray of Hope, Col Muhamad Khalid Khan
  4. National flag., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
  5. Examined, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  6. Trance in the rain, Nassy Fesharaki
  7. Azal se mauzood hoon..., Azhar Sabri
  8. Time Chases Me, Neela Nath
  9. Elimination, Hans Raj Sharma
  10. We have come thru..., bill costley

Poem of the Day

poet Sara Teasdale

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]