Playing alone in flowered fields among brightly colored
butterflies and daffodils, her childish laughter rang
with delight as fluttering wings took flight
A sinister moth caught her eye, its skull head
marking on its breast, that lit upon her palm to rest
She flinched her hand to drive it way, having ended
her day of girlish play, it circled her flaxen locks
causing her to run and fall on jagged rocks
blood trickling from her little knees, she sensed
the evil moth was pleased
The flowering fields were never the same, losing
forever her butterfly game, fearing the moth
would find her again, knowing it did not
want her as a friend
On her 17th birthday, sitting alone, making
bread to feed her home, into the window the
villainous moth flew, tears began to run down her
cheeks, the moth had come to take the meek
It had taunted her in her nightly dreams since that
day playing among the butterfly’s wings, down by
the stream, now here it was circling her head, an
omen that she soon may be dead, its marked wings
caressed her lips then sat patiently on her finger tip
