Butterfly Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I fall asleep, books piled by my pillow
Reading’s my transport from the known and near
And often, this dictates where my dreams go.

Books are my world, they teach me all I know
The more so now my days are turning sere
Pages like leaves so quickly turn and blow.

The soul’s a butterfly, as light as snow
In poems and tales it travels here and there,
Often it ventures to the long ago

White butterfly, your wings now beating slow
This book worm yearns, like you, to change to air
Till then, my little library must glow
Each book a candle, tallow burning low