by Kyle D., 17
Through the park in the month of July,
It somehow ends up catching my eye,
Ever so gently swimming by,
The most ordinary butterfly.
The old family dog not scared to die,
Tries to comfort the boy ready to cry,
His mother only replying with sigh,
Are all passed by as it continues to fly.
A hole is dug as the boy cries why,
The gravestone reaching two feet high,
And as the family says their last goodbye,
They don’t seem to notice it go by.
It lands upon tall grass nearby,
I approach and decide here I will lie,
I can’t help but shed my tie,
I begin to fade left to wonder why.
As I drift up into the twilight sky,
It somehow ends up catching my eye,
Myself somehow lying by,
The most ordinary butterfly.
Bridge Ink 